


Listen to My Heart

by literaryempress



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Abortion, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Attempted Kidnapping, Bedtime Stories, Bipolar Disorder, Child Abuse, Coming Out, Deaf Character, Discussion of Abortion, Domestic Violence, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Family, Fights, First Time, Gay Bashing, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Homosexuality, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kidnapping, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Morning Wood, Oral Sex, Pregnancy, Protectiveness, Rape, Relationship Problems, Romance, Suicide Attempt, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-03-25 22:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 51
Words: 215,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3828043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryempress/pseuds/literaryempress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian Gallagher is engulfed in Mickey and Mandy Milkovich's world as the two newest additions to the neighborhood are constantly fighting for survival against their abusive father. Mickey has been deaf since a major tragedy occurred at a very young age. Ian tries with all his might to gain Mickey and Mandy's trust in order to protect them, but will the words "trust me" be enough to help the siblings' pursuit to stand up against Terry Milkovich?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Footsteps Downstairs, Footsteps Upstairs

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a legit Shameless/Gallavich fanfiction. And I say "legit" because I made a couple of posts on my Tumblr account, but they weren't really that serious; it's just one two-shot that's not really complete. Also, I was inspired by one Tumblr account to do this story. They were just posting headcanons for deaf!Mickey and all of that stuff, and it was so cute; I couldn't pass up the opportunity. So if you're reading this, absolutqueen, then you are a goddess with exception talent. ;)

_Fuck, what time is it?_ The first thing I heard when I woke up this morning was a truck honking the damn horn outside, and all that crossed my mind was, well, isn’t it a Saturday? Shouldn’t it be a little quieter outside? Maybe settle in with a cup of coffee and some shitty soap opera and twist yourself in the bed sheets for a minute?

Well, I can’t really complain. I kinda fell asleep early last night, and the thought of just laying there was going to make me even more uncomfortable than I already felt. My eyes are well-rested. So is my back and legs. It wasn’t until I started stretching my entire body out that I started regretting everything I had done. Why the fuck didn’t I just roll out lazily like other people did? Shit, now the bed doesn’t even feel comfy anymore.

My legs swung out of the bed, a bit quicker than I expected, and I found this random red T-shirt on the floor with a white and black dagger on it. It used to be Lip’s. I don’t know. It had something to do with a really corny convention he went to downtown when he was younger. He scored with some chick he met in his freshman year of high school and thought the shirt wasn’t going to impress her, so he let me have it for some odd reason.

Whatever. It’s not like I got anything to look forward to that requires fresh, new attire.

Anyways, I find a random pair of jeans hanging over my chair and put them on with the red dagger shirt. The really fucked up thing about my clothes, especially since most of them are hand-me-downs, is the fact that they’re all tight on me. I would ask Fiona to head on to the mall or something for new stuff, but money’s kind of tight on us. You’ll never believe how many hours she works every day. She literally stays home on Sundays and weeknights from nine to about seven in the morning. Busy girl.

Speaking of “busy girl”, when I walked out of the room, I immediately smelled pancakes and coffee. Just what I needed. Fiona had a pretty good idea of what food I actually liked to eat. Well, she tries to keep track of that, at least. Our family kind of does this thing where we all have a Saturday to tell Fiona what food we want for breakfast before she leaves for work at the diner. She barely has time to do it on weekdays, for she works in an office somewhere in downtown Chicago, and it’s a very busy commute sometimes.

Last week, Carl got a chance to pick the breakfast everyone would be eating, which sucked because he knew how much I hated Corn Pops. It was cool, though, because there was also toast and apple juice, which was pretty much all I ate before heading out to the gym that day. Today, however, was my breakfast day, and pancakes sound irresistible right now.

“Ah shit!” I stepped on something that was left astray on the floor. It wasn’t sharp or anything, just fucking big and hard. And it started playing a bunch of nursery rhymes. The moment I looked down, I immediately saw the interactive piano Fiona got Liam for his birthday. That had to have been about four months or so ago. Now Liam’s just like everyone else: that one kid that gets what they want only to carelessly dump it on the side like it’s nothing.

I bent down to pick up the rainbow-colored toy so I could take it back into my room. Well, it wasn’t really _my_ room; I share it with Liam, Carl, and Lip for now. Lip’s going to be finishing high school soon, so there’s that possibility of him moving out of the house. Good thing, too; Gallaghers never get a break, and this may be a major change for all of us.

Liam was awake in his bed. Holy crap, he’s getting big, isn’t he? He may not even need this damn thing anymore. It’s probably close to running out of batteries or getting broken anyway. The toddler looked up at me with a morning smile, and all I can think about is how infectious it is. Liam is a Gallagher, too, but he’s nowhere near as destructive as the rest of us are.

I picked him up out of his bed and kissed him on the forehead. His arms wrap around me and mutters out some little toddler words out to me, and I just laugh. “Mornin’, buddy.” He likes it when I call him that. I’ll call him buddy on a daily basis, and he either claps with glee or follows me like I’m a life line for him or something. He does that to a lot of people, actually, especially Fiona, for she is the head of the household and it’s everyone’s obligation to obey her rules.

Speaking of Fiona, her voice had echoed throughout the house when she called my name. “Ian, come downstairs! Breakfast is ready!” I had been messing around with Liam so much; I forgot that my stomach was still empty.

I held Liam’s hand as we started to walk out of the room. Liam’s walking surprisingly improved. He looked like a little pro at all of this. Fiona taught him to walk a while ago. My younger sister, Debbie, kind of assisted with the whole process. She’s nowhere near that young anymore, but she’s still that bright. She taught Liam all of the things Fiona couldn’t, and Carl, Lip, and I followed suit. Now the little man is preparing himself to conquer the world.

We both made it down the stairs – God, since when did Carl clean his blue Converses? – and we were greeted with the sight of probably the busiest and messiest kitchen in the world. No, seriously, with the exception of the dining table, which Debbie was placing plates and silverware on, and Carl was reading some magazine with too many appealing details, it was a mess. Clothes scattered on the floor near the washer and dryer, pans and bowls stacked on the countertops, the sink overflowing with other dirty plates that never got tended to – when was the last time anyone cleaned in here?

Fiona was a complete mess herself. Her hair was nowhere near done, despite the fact that it looked nice anyways, and it looked as if she was missing an earring or Liam’s sippy cup. She used the back of her left hand to wipe off beads of sweat that came dripping onto her forehead before turning to me and Liam by the stairs. Almost automatically, a smile appeared on her face. “There you two are,” she told us, making her way over to pick up Liam and coo at him in his face.

I dismissed those two, ‘cause it felt really awkward just standing there while Fiona was busy playing with the little toddler. Whatever. I sat in an empty chair beside Debbie’s, which was occupied with a pink sweater hanging on it. On the table beside her plate was a notebook, two number two pencils, and a worksheet filled with simplistic Algebra equations I haven’t seen since the sixth grade. “Got a test coming up?” I asked, even though I would end up getting the most obvious answer in the world.

But I didn’t get that. No, Debbie literally answered me with something like this: “I made it to the top fifteen in my entire class, and I want to keep this up so when I start applying for colleges and things like that, they’ll be impressed with my perfect scores.” I could barely say anything back. I mean, Debbie’s really into her own education, isn’t she?

“Aren’t you in the eighth grade?” I asked her the moment she came over to me with a full plate of pancakes and some syrup.

What really threw me off was the way she looked at me. She looked at me like I was stupid or something. But I wasn’t going to argue with her about that, because I wasn’t much of a school-hyped kind of guy. I’m not the one who judges people who are, though, because everyone’s dreams are different. Different like…like handwritings. You know, how some girls have handwriting so perfect that it should have its own font on Photoshop? And then there are those other people with the handwriting that’s so hard to detect. Yeah, it’s definitely like writing.

I barely got a chance to focus on what Debbie was saying once the pancakes were set on the table, but I tried my best. “Gallaghers can’t make it out of Chicago without getting crap at any circumstance. Lip’s only lucky because his previous girlfriend got him help. I don’t want to be like those high school drop-outs who can’t figure out what they want, or those people who settled with the basic colleges. I want the best I can get.” Debbie spilled within less than two minutes.

Debbie was so smart and amazing; it was almost unreal. I may not be like her in terms of education and my future, but she’s a very reliable source of inspiration.

Fiona brought Liam to the kitchen table and got him into his high chair before sprinting back to the stove to grab the scrambled eggs that were still cooking over the stove. “I should be back around five-thirty or so. My shift ends a little earlier than usual. I want one of you to take Liam to the babysitter’s and make sure he gets back home in time for dinner.”

See? This is what I was talking about. Fiona’s so damn occupied that she can’t even drop her own little brother off at the babysitter’s home herself. Add that to the fact that we don’t own a car of any brand, so traveling to places was harder than usual. Our only modes of transportation were the buses and trains. If we were lucky, Fiona’s boyfriend or whatever would come back with the car, but that was only for emergencies and stuff like that – unless if he was interested in taking us to a baseball game or something.

“I’m gonna head out to a friend’s house today,” Carl stated, his eyes still in the magazine he was reading. Whatever the hell was in there, it seemed to have taken his mind off of the real world, like the fictional characters Liam would see on one of those kids shows that air early in the morning. It was different this time around, though, because instead of seeing talking dogs and dinosaurs, Carl saw women’s nude bodies and photos of motorcycles and monster trucks. Yep, apparently my little brother is into that type of stuff.

And it seemed to have annoyed Fiona in a way, because when she had asked why he was going to “a friend’s house” for the day, he scolded him about the damn magazine and snatched it out of his hand. “Stop reading smut at the table; the food is out.” I’m not sure why I found this funny, but Fiona’s reactions to Carl’s every move seemed to have been somewhat interesting.

The pancakes were very soft – not too raw and not too burnt for my taste. They were perfect. Fiona’s cooking was perfect, and I appreciate it. Everyone in the house, with the exception of Carl and Liam, cooks, but Fiona does it the best. The most I ever made other than some waffles that looked like disappointments compared to the breakfast pastries before me were some brownies. They came out better than I expected. I guess I’m more of a baker than a cook. I guess.

Fiona brought some apple juice to the table and addressed us all again. “One of you has to take Liam to Sheila’s before you go, unless you’re going to babysit him yourself.”

And, like the little Girl Scout Debbie actually is, she looks up to Fiona and responds: “I have a project to finish with some classmates from school, but I can take Liam there.”

“Great.” Fiona looked relieved. I would be, too, if I was her. She took a couple more glances around the kitchen and then back at us. “Where’s Lip?”

That was a really great question. He usually babysits Liam sometimes when none of us could do it. And I didn’t see him in the bedroom this morning when I woke up or anything. Not even when I returned to get Liam out of bed. Was the shower or the bathroom sink running? Nope, it was empty on the inside when I walked past it. Well, if he wasn’t there then –

Oh yeah. He had to leave early today. Yesterday he mentioned something about a high school senior seminar or something to help with financial aid and whatever else he needed in order to survive through college and whatnot. It was in one of the building on the University of Illinois at Chicago campus, and he remembered him talking about some of his friends attending the program as well. Debbie got one thing right about Lip: he was a smartass, and he was going to make it out of here, Gallagher or not.

“He found that program downtown, remember?” I spoke up the moment I finally remembered. “He goes there two hours every Saturday now.” I wish I was that dedicated. Lip’s math scores are so insane that even MIT and Brown were considering that he should apply for some of the scholarships at their school. I mean, why wouldn’t he? He’s a walking calculator, for Christ’s sakes. Me, I even need a physical calculator for the simplest problems.

Us Gallaghers were full of problems, too, but I can’t just use a calculator to make them all go away.

“Isn’t someone moving into the neighborhood?” Debbie spoke up to catch me out of my thoughts. “There was a moving truck early this morning, and it was driving around the block.”

Oh yeah, that’s right. The same truck that probably woke me up this morning, I bet.

“I guess so,” Fiona responded, finally taking an empty seat between me and Carl to eat some breakfast. Two little pastries were placed on her plate in front of her, and she scooped some of the scrambled eggs onto her plate before passing them on to me. “Maybe later on today or tomorrow, we can welcome them into the neighborhood.”

Oh great, because Fiona was suddenly getting used to the mommy-type instincts like greeting newcomers into the neighborhood.

Well, not necessarily. Had she developed those instincts, and she would be baking sugar cookies and yelling at all of us, convincing us to clean the house if they just so happened to want to come over and visit us. Fiona was cooler than that, and she wasn’t really interested in the other neighbors sans Kevin Ball and Veronica Fisher a couple of houses down. Not just that, but she was tied down with us, work, and her boyfriend. So it was pretty easy to comprehend.

“Just as long as their dog doesn’t bark loud enough to scare the South Side of Chicago out of their homes.” Debbie added, and I snickered a bit.

Fiona’s eyebrows furrowed. “How do you know they have a dog?”

Debbie shrugged. “Most new neighbors I have encountered have dogs. Or some kind of weird pet from the Amazons.”

She was hilarious. Maybe true sometimes, but hilarious.

I could have sworn only about five minutes had passed, but Fiona was already done with her breakfast. Hell, I still had a whole pancake left, probably because she had less than me. And – wait, what time was it? Oh shit, she had work at the diner. She jumped out of her seat and grabbed her empty plate and used utensils to toss in the sink. Debbie and Carl joined her momentarily, and I was left at the table, finishing up the last bits of my pancake before taking mine and Liam’s plate to the sink underneath hot water. Since I was probably the last one to leave the house, I was the one to clean today. Lucky me.

It was surprisingly sunny outside, but Chicago was known for being the Windy City, after all, so Fiona made Debbie, Carl, and Liam put on sweaters just in case because she wasn’t sure if there was enough medicine in the cabinets that would satisfy both of them. “Remember,” Fiona spoke in that motherly tone she always used lately, “Don’t be out later than eight o’clock, and if you have to, call me.”

Debs and Carl both nodded while Liam just stood there, biting on his finger and being an oblivious little explorer. Debbie grabbed Liam’s hand before picking him up and carrying him to the front door. Before she, Debbie, Liam, and Carl exited the house, Fiona whirled around toward me as I came out of the kitchen with a dish rag in my hands. “You’ll be alright here?” she asked me.

I pointed my thumb to the direction of the back door. “Heading out to the gym.” I simply stated.

“Text me if anything happens.” Fiona simply replied back. Everything between the two of us was simple. It’s like we understood each other just like that. Or, well, at least I understood her just like that. I’m not sure what she thinks about me.

After giving my affirmation and biding a farewell to all of my siblings, I threw the dish rag in the sink and ran back upstairs. I needed a quick shower first before I headed out.

* * *

I didn’t stay at the gym for as long as I wanted to, but I think I was there for a pretty decent amount of time – roughly two and a half hours, to be exact. Actually, no, I don’t count the twenty minutes or so I had to struggle with the raggedy vending machine just to get a Gatorade, but whatever. Damn YMCA never bothered to get that shit together anyway, so it’s not really any of my business.

I came home with a lot of sweat on my face and back, though, so I take that as an accomplishment. It suddenly got warmer outside, and I was craving something cold or frozen to help me cool down. Preferably a cherry-flavored Popsicle. Call me a horny teen all you want, but it’s just in my nature.

I entered through the back door this time, because – God, I’m so stupid – I left it open before I went to work out. I hope nobody broke in or anything. I shut the door behind me and took in the atmosphere of the Gallagher home.

I think I jinxed myself.

No seriously, one of the cabinet doors was open, and I think one of the bags of chips Fiona bought the other day had been opened. Not to mention that my Cheez-It’s were missing, and it was pissing me off. No one was home when I called throughout the house, which was even more suspicious.

What really caught me by surprise was the destroyed living room. Why the fuck were the cushions of the couch all over the place? And was the lamp broken or something? How did the house end up like this? Well, I knew _how_ kinda, being that I was a clumsy shit to not lock the doors, but who in their right mind would –

Footsteps were heard upstairs. Someone other than me was in the house, and it was creeping me the fuck out. I usually don’t like to condone violence or anything when someone’s breaking into my house, but I don’t want Fiona finding out that the police had to come to the house because of my suspicions. So I just grabbed the baseball bat and prepared myself for the worst.

I made my way up the stairs slowly. You’ll never know what can happen when you charge yourself for your intruders. They could either beat you up miserably or even kill you, and I sure as hell wasn’t ready for that shit. I still have dreams for myself, though getting into the army used to be the most important one for me.

I got a very moderate view of the second floor, but I didn’t see the mystery person yet. Maybe he – or she – is hiding somewhere in the house. Debbie’s bedroom door was closed, and nothing was heard on the other side. Same for Fiona’s room and the hallway closet. The bathroom door ahead was partly open and so was the room I shared with my brothers. Someone was up here, and I wasn’t gonna let him or her rob us like crazy.

I crept down the hall once I made it to the top of the stairs. _One_. I had to make sure that the floor boards didn’t creak or anything, ‘cause that would be a bitch if the mystery guy heard me walking up here. _Two_. Jesus, I was risking my life, wasn’t I? What if this guy had a gun or a taser? He might kill me or hold me hostage. _Three_. I took a deep breath and remembered everything I learned from ROTC. _Stay low as possible, Ian, stay low_. There weren’t any hiding spots in the hallway, but I took this as my own version of “hey, don’t run towards it like a banshee.”

I took a couple more steps. _Four, five, six_. Christ, I’m not even at the bathroom door yet. I’m such a wuss.

The door to the bedroom suddenly swung open, and someone walked out of it. It wasn’t Lip, Carl, or Liam. It wasn’t even Debbie or Fiona. Not even Frank, though I wouldn’t be surprised if that homeless drunk was Frank anyways. He found all types of ways to annoy everyone here, much less the entire town, and I take it that he hates me the most. I mean, I’m not his biological kid, after all, though every Gallagher that lives here shares the same mother.

But even if it wasn’t Frank, or Fiona, or any of my other rascal siblings, this guy still creeped the shit out of me. I think I creeped the shit out of him, too. He had those doe eyes. Yes, doe eyes. You know how you’re walking through the halls on the first day of high school and the principal calls your name from afar? It’s exactly like this. What the fuck this guy was even looking for, I’m not even sure. He just needed to get the hell out of my house.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I yelled at him angrily, because that’s all I can pretty much do since he didn’t react to me very majorly. For some reason, he didn’t say anything back. He was frozen like a goddamn ice statue. I think he had tattoos on his knuckles, so I take it that he’s one of those thuggish type of guys or whatever. Well, he’s doing a bang-up job at being one; he’s not even flinching.

He probably didn’t hear me the first time, so I just swung my bat over my shoulder, hoping he would get the hint. “Get the fuck out of here! Now!” He ducked out of the way of the bat. Before I got a chance to even hit him, he shoved me into the wall adjacent to the bathroom door before he ran down the hall and down the stairs. I couldn’t even do anything, really. The aftermath of his strong hands pushing into my chest lingered in the air a bit. Now it was my turn to remain frozen.

I’m not sure why, but I started to get worried about him. What if he came back? What was he here to take and why? What did he want that may have been under the couch cushions, in the kitchen cabinets, and in my room, unaware to me and the rest of the members of the household?

About eight minutes may have passed – maybe five, just to be safe – and I pushed myself off the wall and entered my bedroom. The inside was messier than usual. The mattress to my bed was on the floor, and my clothes were thrown aimlessly around the room. Some of Lip and Carl’s stuff was thrown around, too, but not much of Liam’s. Fiona always folded his clothes, occasionally with Debbie’s help, and all of his toys were in the trunk underneath his bed. I guess the intruder never got to his stuff yet.

My eyes trained to the ground next to my feet. A magazine was tossed on the ground, and some pictures were poking out of them. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit_. Some of the photos in there were some…um, “collector’s items” I gathered from Fiona’s stash of magazines in her room, as well as the magazines stacked in the Kash N’ Grab, where I work on the weekdays.

No one knows about that magazine. No one.

Well, I can’t say _no one_ ; Fiona and Lip kind of gotten the hint a while ago, but they never address it to Debbie, Carl, Liam, or anyone outside the household. They’re looking out for me.

But what did this guy want my magazine clippings for? Does he want dirt on me? Better yet, what was it about this place that lured him here? There were so many questions I had, but somehow, there's not one answer that can satisfy any of them. It was so fucking weird.


	2. In and Out the South Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Chicago didn’t house the best people in the world; people made it in and out of the South Side all the time, but not many of them are as pleasant. It would be a change to see something different. Just a thought."

Cleaning the bedroom up was gonna be a bitch. I didn’t even know where to start, honestly. Well, since I’m already up here, I might as well get started on the bedroom. I picked up the mattress that had been sitting on the ground and dragged it back to my bed. I barely had enough time to do that and gather the contents of the magazine that used to be hidden underneath my bed before I heard the front door slam closed. _Shit, somebody’s home_.

“Hello? Anyone home?” I heard my older brother’s voice echo after moments of silence. I wasn’t expecting Lip to appear early in the day today, honestly. Didn’t he have a girlfriend or someone to go to?

“Lip!” I called to him from where I stood. Before he started walking up the stairs, I scurried around to grab the magazine and the pictures inside it and hid it safely behind the bed. At that moment, Lip came down the hall towards me. He seemed to be just as confused about all of this shit as I was.

“Hey man, why are all of the cushions on the floor?” Lip asked, clutching his backpack over his shoulder. “This place looks like a fucking train wreck –“ He stared ahead towards my bed. I hadn’t completed the task of placing my mattress in the right order just yet. “Something happen in here?”

I glanced over at my side of the room and then back to him. “Nothing major. We just had an intruder.” I said that as casually as I could, because honestly, we have enough to be freaking out about. Money’s tight in this household, there are many heads to feed every day, not to mention that the light and water bills had to be paid each month. We didn’t need some fucking invader to add on to our troubles.

“Holy shit,” is what my older brother says next. Not too dramatic, though, because it’s not like I’m batshit scared of anything or possessing a thick, red scar somewhere on my body. “Did they take anything?”

I looked around once more for good measure. The mattress was almost arranged normally on the bed, nothing on my side of the room seemed stolen, and neither were the things on Carl, Lip, and Liam’s sides of the room. I shrugged when my observations were complete. “Nope. Everything’s here.” I took the corner of the mattress and dragged it back to my bed, with Lip’s help.

“Who the fuck would wanna trash someone else’s room and not steal anything?” Lip wondered aloud, and I immediately thought the same thing. Aside from my hidden magazine that was thrown carelessly in the middle of the floor, there wasn’t really much of a purpose. Or maybe I have some creepy internet stalker who has been going through my Instagram photos. Is my account even private? I’m not even sure.

“No clue.” The bed sheets were in a pile by my desk, and I just went ahead and dragged them back onto the bed. When Lip had offered to help, I just dismissed his offer and directed him towards his pile of stuff. “You may wanna check and see if your stuff’s still here.” It didn’t take too much time to clean the room and do a couple of minor inspections. My bed was finally made, and all of our stuff was put back in their proper places.

I’m not sure how or why, but it suddenly got hot in this room. The efforts put forth to this labor kind of worked up an appetite. Before going into the living room to place the cushions back on the couch, I ran downstairs into the kitchen for a sandwich and maybe a Jell-O packet or something. Lip wasn’t too far from me. He joined me at the kitchen counter with two bottles of beer.

I could hear him chuckle behind me as I ate my ham sandwich. “I can’t begin to imagine what this place will be like when I move out of here.”

Honestly, I couldn’t, either.

I mean, Lip and I, we’ve been bros for as long as we can remember. We were always on Fiona’s defense team whenever Frank would stop by and tear everyone’s exterior down with a bottle of whiskey in his hands. We were always tucking Debbie and Liam in for bed and telling stupid, hilarious fucking stories to Carl every day. We were always having deep conversations with each other in that raggedy ass van that remained in our backyard since we first found out about it.

Funny how college and shit changes people, and it doesn’t just include the student; sometimes – or all of the time, should I say – it involves literally everyone else.

I didn’t want to share a sad moment with Lip, though, because he’s not necessarily the guy I should be sinking down to the tile floor and crying my ass off about. He’s only going somewhere downtown anyways. It’s not like he’s going out of state, although that would be a major breakthrough for any of the Gallaghers. “Just don’t fuck up and get some girl pregnant.”

Lip snickers and mutters out “no worries” before the opening of the beer bottle meets his lips.

Of course, no worries. Phillip Gallagher was ten times smarter than that. He could teach the South Side a thing or two about ruining your future with a package of diapers and a shit ton of hospital bills.

“How much time do you think it would take before any of us makes it out of here?” Lip questioned me, sliding the bottle in between his fingers on the kitchen counter.

I knew what he was asking me. Life was probably better before Frank got overly drunk, Monica abandoned her own kids, and Fiona completely left her young life to take care of other young lives. I had to think it over. What would happen if Fiona wasn’t here? What would happen if Frank and Monica never came back to this house to care for their children? Hell, Lip is barely in his twenties yet, and already it feels like he’s carrying some of the weight Fiona’s been sporting for a while. Debbie’s already looking up offers from schools and whatnot, despite the fact that she’s not even close to the point where she has to apply to universities, but the cute face charade wasn’t going to last very long for her. And Carl – fuck, _Carl_ – his detention record is so high; you can literally recreate the Sears Tower with it. And me…well, I’m just me.

The chances of any of us making it out of here are a bit slim, with the money issues included into the equation. If Lip, and maybe even Debbie, can keep their heads in the books, though, they could be running the top business in the nation in about ten to fifteen years from now. Maybe then, we could get out of Chicago and start anew. It’s possible, isn’t it?

“Ballpark? Ten or fifteen. Maybe a little less than that, depending on whether Frank decides to come home drunk and steal cash from the squirrel fund again or not.” That was all I responded with before I finished my food and then sipped some of the beer that I abandoned on the kitchen counter in front of me.

Lip joined me with a laugh. “Watch out for the day my tuition money runs out if Frank ever stops by for his daily tip.” He joked.

“I’m not worried, man. He won’t make it past the front door anyway.” I dismissed. There were stray crumbs on the plate now, and I didn’t realize how hungry I was until then.

“Thanks, man.” Lip told me as I got up to clean my eating area. “I’m not worried about you, either.” I barely put any dish soap on my plate before I heard that. What is there about me that he’s not worried about? I’m just an amateur. Fuck, l couldn’t be an Einstein like Lip even if I sprinted out the door this moment to do so. Truth is, I don’t have much self confidence. Not sure where I get it from, but it’s true. “You can do big things, too. Anything you want. Maybe we can both take over the world together.”

As much as I appreciated Lip’s optimism, I wasn’t up for the encouragement. After what happened with the army, I don’t really feel as destined for much around here anymore.

I think Lip heard the snicker escape my mouth, so he continued. “I’m serious. Something’s gonna work out. You have to trust me on this.”

“Says the mathematician who almost declined his girlfriend’s offer to go to college.” Had Lip not attended those college programs, and the odds of any Gallagher leaving the South Side would have been one out of six. He didn’t take much offense to my response, though. I think he very well understands what I mean.

Lip had paced towards the archway that separated the kitchen from the living room, and that’s when my mind raced back to moments before. I’m not really scarred by anything, but I can’t for the life of me understand why someone would just break into the house or whatever just to toss things around. It didn’t make any logical sense. Like, what was the guy looking for anyway, some money? Or some valuable that Frank had taken out of his possession? Does Frank even _know_ him? Maybe he knows Frank, for all I know, and that Frank probably pulled something out of his _101 Ways to Fuck with Anyone_ guide to piss him off. “We getting back to this shit or what?” Lip asked me, his thumb pointing in the general direction of the couches.

No time like the present, is what they all say. Plus, if Fiona were to find something out about this, she would flip her shit.

* * *

Fiona didn’t return until an hour and a half after Lip and I had cleaned up the living room area a bit. I decided that the room needed some extra work, especially with a lot of crayons and empty soda cans sitting there aimlessly on the coffee table. She seemed impressed, even for a second, and this was the moment where I felt like I could glance into Lip’s face mouthing, “I told you so.”

“How long have you two been home?” she asked once she placed a plastic bag of groceries onto the kitchen counter.

“An hour,” Lip had beat me to answering her eyeing his phone for a brief moment, “but I have to get going again. Study group needs me for this project.” He got up out of the sofa and grabbed his backpack by the stairs. “I’ll be back for dinner, Fiona.” He reminded her before waving in my direction. “Later, Ian.”

“Later!” I called back before the front door closed, and Fiona came out of the kitchen with a plate of cookies covered in saran wrap. “What’s the occasion?” I asked her, probably a little too soon, for she drew the plate of cookies out of my reach. She always knew how much I loved chocolate chip cookies, especially the kind that came soft in the packages. I think this is her way of teasing me after what happened that one Christmas when we had made some at Kev and Vee’s place.

“We’re welcoming the new neighbors.” Fiona declared. “I thought I’d buy some of these when I went to stock up on groceries.”

“What if they don’t like chocolate?” I tried her for a moment. I think she caught on to what I was trying to say because she saw the smirk that now appeared on my face and deadpanned me.

“I have plenty more where that came from,” Fiona giggled. She took the plate with her towards the staircase. “I figured we all could go once Debs, Carl, and Liam made it home. Now that Lip is busy, we could leave him to his studies.”

I adjusted myself onto the couch better so I could see her walking away. “A Gallagher’s trying to make it out of here, Fiona. Of course, we don’t wanna distract him, right?”

“Right.” She winked at me before she disappeared to the second floor.

I took the remote that was sitting on the couch beside me and turned on the TV. Not really much was on today, so I just found one of the movie stations and just kept it there. Watching another rerun of Robert Downey, Jr. using his external strength to save the city from alien-like terrorists wasn’t the best way to pass the time, but it made an attempt to help. Three minutes barely passed before Debbie came back into the house with Liam beside her.

“Debs,” I greeted her as she came around to sit on the couch with me. “The project go well?”

Debbie shrugged. “Our day’s work could have had some improvements, but I’m at least satisfied. Hayley was supposed to have more information to put on the board for us to present, but she said she got that covered tonight. So Whitney and I just left.” She spent a moment to play around with Liam’s tiny fingers before she addressed me. “Everything go okay here?”

I shrugged. _Okay_ wasn’t a proper word to describe my day. That dude from earlier wasn’t leaving my mind for shit. “I guess,” I responded, because I don’t think Debbie could handle the story of how the mystery man magically appeared from out of my bedroom to trash all of my stuff. “Fiona wants us to see the new neighbors today.”

Debbie frowned. “Already? Did they even settle in yet?”

How the fuck was I to know? “Maybe Fiona’s turning over a new leaf or something. We hardly ever did that before.”

“That’s because we barely had any new neighbors.”

Well, I couldn’t lie; she was right about that.

Fiona had come back with the plate of wrapped cookies, but this time, she had stripped out of her work outfit and changed into a tan sleeveless shirt with some black jeans. “You all ready to go?” she asked us.

“We’re not waiting for Carl?”

“I called him. He said he won’t be home until later,” Fiona told me before walking over to grab Liam out of Debbie’s lap. “It’s just us for the day.” She directed her attention towards the little toddler she cradled on her right hip. “Ready to go on an adventure, little man?” she cooed at him before grabbing her face a bit.

I was actually pretty anxious to meet them. What were these people like anyway? New neighbors sounded as broad as they ever could when mentioned, but they could fall in many categories. I usually separated them into two: the typical, all-American happy-goers with no intention but to improve the neighborhood with white roses and smiles; or the crazies who normally blocked anyone out and yelled at them when they stepped foot on their property. I really hoped it was the former. Chicago didn’t house the best people in the world; people made it in and out of the South Side all the time, but not many of them are as pleasant. It would be a change to see something different. Just a thought.

* * *

Turns out, these new neighbors relocated into the home by the train tracks like we have. Their house was a different color, though, and the grass wasn’t in tip top shape. I know they’re new here and all, but honestly, the latter description I had earlier of the new neighbors on the block seemed to be truer than ever. Then again, it’s only been a few hours; you can’t create perfection within a matter of hours.

That is, if perfection really exists or not.

Fiona, with Liam in one hand and the cookies in another, led us up the wooden stairs leading to the front door. “This is it,” she told us with a sigh escaping her mouth. She turned to me and Debbie, using her motherly instincts at an instant. “You two be on your best behavior for me, alright?” Debbie and I nodded in unison, though I think Fiona was mainly referring to Debbie.

“What if the neighbors have a baby, too?” Debbie whispered to me as Fiona knocked on the door. “You think I could land a babysitting gig with the new neighbors?”

It was a possibility, that’s for sure. Debbie is really good with babies, or just kids in general. We had litters of fucking kids over the Gallagher household over the years, and Debbie took the time out of her days to watch them while their parents were off at work or wherever the hell they went. She makes a really great babysitter; she holds a lot of responsibility in her. I wouldn’t be surprised if the new neighbors handed over their baby to her, if they had one, that is.

I shrugged at her and shot her an optimistic grin. “I mean, if they did have one, of course they can’t turn you down, right?” And I was honest. Like, really honest. Debbie was one of the best in our household. She can handle pretty much anything. Debbie could tell that I understood her confidence, too, because she grinned at me back.

The door swung open, and a girl, perhaps the same age as me, glanced up at a smiling Fiona before her. “Hi, I’m Fiona Gallagher,” my big sister introduced herself. She gestured behind her at me and Debbie. “We decided to be the welcoming committee for the day and help you settle into the neighborhood.”

This new girl seemed to welcome our presence, for she shrugged back at us and responded with, “Cool.”

“This right here is my baby brother, Liam,” Fiona cooed as she adjusted the weight of Liam’s little body on her side. She jerked her head towards me and then Debbie. “This is my younger brother, Ian.” I waved at the girl at the door, a little more awkwardly than I suspected. “And this is my youngest sister, Debbie.”

“Nice to meet you.” Debbie politely spoke.

The black-haired girl smiled. “Mandy Milkovich. Thanks.” That’s all she said before I got the assumption that she wasn’t really a bad person after all. She was just…chill, I guess. There wasn’t really a specific word other than that. I didn’t know much about her, but I really liked her. I wonder if she thought the same thing about us.

Fiona handed Mandy the plate of wrapped cookies that were still in her hand. “I brought you some cookies, if you wanted any.” She stated, and Mandy took the plate in her hands.

Then she said something I wouldn’t expect to come out of her mouth. “Wanna come inside?” And, as expected, Fiona agreed, carrying Liam inside with her. Debbie and I followed before Mandy shut the door behind us.

The house wasn’t really well prepared. Many boxes were stacked in the living room, most of them labeled as _Kitchen_ or _Living Room_ , so I assumed that most of Mandy’s family’s stuff was already placed in their rooms. I heard noises in other rooms in the house, but I decided not to really question them, for the other members of the Milkovich household were probably placing their belongings in the locations they want them in. Still, it wasn’t a bad house. It looked warm and welcoming at the moment.

“Do you guys want anything to eat?” Mandy asked us, placing the plate of cookies onto the table before sprinting over to the kitchen. “I think we have some pot stickers and lasagna in here somewhere.” She opened the refrigerator door and pulled something wrapped in aluminum foil while the rest of us decided to look around for a bit.

Before Mandy even had the opportunity to take any of the food out of their respective wrappings, Fiona shook her head. “It’s okay, Mandy. We don’t plan on staying for too long.”

“No, it’s no problem at all,” Mandy assured her before pulling something else out of the fridge. “Beer for any of you? Punch for the little guy?” She asked, taking one quick glance at Liam still in Fiona’s arms.

I hadn’t noticed that Debbie had walked away from my side until I heard her voice all the way on the left side of the room. “Do you keep anything in here?” she had asked casually before reaching out to open the cabinet door. Before Debbie even grabbed the knob, I was startled by a loud voice boom from a room somewhere in the back.

“Hey, no touching the valuables!” an older man called, almost scaring Debbie to the point where she had to run back over to Fiona and me. Unlike Mandy, he didn’t seem like the one to welcome new people into his house. He gave Debbie the death glare and literally burned her eyes out from where he stood. Hell, he didn’t need a match or anything to do so.

Mandy sped walked into the living room again to address the grumpy man before us. “Oh, Dad, don’t worry. They’re just the new neighbors.” Mandy spoke, trying to calm her father down.

Mr. Milkovich eyed her daughter incredulously. “Did I fucking ask you to invite people without my consent?” Mandy didn’t respond this time; she just ducked her head and took a step back as her father pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his left pocket. “Fuckin’ noobs.” He mumbled under his breath before lighting one of the cigarettes from the pack. So far, I already didn’t like the guy.

Fiona held a cautious hand before her to Mandy’s dad. “We didn’t mean any harm, Mr. Milkovich. We were just about to leave.”

“Already?” Debbie asked her older sister, who motioned her to stay quiet.

“If you want,” Mandy spoke a little quieter than earlier, “you can come back when we’re finished unpacking here.” She flinched when her father turned his head in her direction.

“Yeah, right.” The Milkovich father mumbled. I’m not sure if either Debbie or Fiona even heard what he said, but I could tell from his negative vibes that this guy was already a dick, and I barely knew anything about him. He puffed some more smoke from his mouth before shouting to someone in another room. “Iggy! Mickey!” he shouted.

Only one of the two people Mr. Milkovich called walked through the hallway that led to the living room. He had a head of blonde hair that didn’t seem to well done but fit him anyways, and his jeans were terribly ripped. So was the white, short-sleeved shirt he had on. Not that I’m complaining or anything, because it seemed to have suited him.

“Iggs, get your brother out here,” Mr. Milkovich demanded, “and tell him to help assemble the bookshelf.” The younger man nodded before disappearing into the other room.

Fiona had handed Liam to Debbie before speaking again. “Nice place you got here,” she complimented the man, though the tension was still wavering in the air.

“Best thing on the market that can hold as many as we can have.” Mr. Milkovich explained, taking another puff of his cigarette.

“You have any younger children? Like, babies?” Debbie asked, her tone a bit brighter than before.

At that question, the man started to laugh from his belly. “Nah, I’m done with the fetus farm for a long time, sweet cheeks.” Mr. Milkovich explained, bringing a somewhat disappointed look to Debbie’s eyes. It was sad that the Milkoviches have reached past the point of having newborns into the family. That didn’t stop Mr. Milkovich’s sons and daughter from having babies in the future, though. Hopefully, Debbie kept her head up on that idea, though. She’d be a great babysitter to Mr. Milkovich’s grandbabies.

“Mickey and Mandy are our youngest two,” Mr. Milkovich explained, pointing his thumb to a silent Mandy and then towards the hallway behind him. “Compared to the rest of my boys, they’re babies enough.” He turned his head behind him once the blonde-haired boy walked out into the living room again with a shorter, black-haired boy beside him. “You two, shelf’s on the right side of the couch. Assemble it.”

It took a few moments to notice it, really, but when I did, I felt as if I was about to go crazy in front of everyone. It must have been a small fucking world or something, but the same guy that broke into our house earlier today was here. Only now, he didn’t have as many layers of clothing as he did when he exited my room.

He caught on to me staring angrily at him, and he stared directly back at me. Not sure how he has a reason to be pissed at me for anything, but he was, and it only irked me further on the more his peripheral vision kept burning me directly on my forehead. _This was Mickey Milkovich, right?_ Well, it didn’t settle with me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this chapter took so long to upload. I am finally getting my shit together when it comes to college/education and stuff. I will be attending college this fall, so it may be harder to continue the stories that I write. Hopefully, this one will come out successfully, because I have so many ideas for this one. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. More to come soon.


	3. Stolen Goods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I wanted Kash to understand that I could do this. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t going to let Mickey get away with this again. I wanted him to know that this kind of thing isn’t new for me, and that I have his back. I just want this to fucking end."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may be a tad confusing; so to save you guys of the confusion, the first-person narrative changes about halfway in. I won't exactly say what the transition is, but I think I made it clear enough to understand.

“So…this is Mickey?” Fiona had asked, although it was pretty much obvious. And Mickey himself didn’t pay no mind to Fiona when he walked past her, following his older brother to the couch.

Mr. Milkovich hissed with a degree of satisfaction. “That’s my boy. A real trooper, I’ll tell you that.” He praised the youngest son of the Milkovich family. “He still has some work to do, but he’s one of mine; I see him going places.” _Yeah, right. Going places where he doesn’t have permission to go to_ , I wanted to say but couldn’t. And I don’t know if it was because of natural instinct or that he was reading my mind, but Mickey looked up at me again. What was it with this guy and looking at me with…that look? Like I did something to him or something.

I took a break from eyeing Mickey and stole a glance at Mandy. She was giving her father one of the worst looks ever, as if everything about Mickey he was saying wasn’t true. Come to think of it, when Mr. Milkovich made his first appearance, Mandy wasn’t at all comfortable with him, which made me a little suspicious to say the least.

“Hey Mands,” Mr. Milkovich told his daughter, “fetch your Pops a bottle of beer, will ya?” And as if her mind was on autopilot, Mandy sped walked into the kitchen to retrieve a beer bottle. Yeah, something was off about her.

Fiona broke the immediate silence we, the Gallaghers, had created within the new neighbors’ home. “I actually have to get going, Mr. Milkovich,” Fiona spoke, adjusting Liam on her hip. “The little guy’s gotta get some sleep.” I looked at Liam for a moment, and his head nearly drooped over Fiona’s breast.

Another puff of smoke from his cigarette and Mr. Milkovich grumbled. “He’s something, ain’t he?” he spoke gruffly as Mandy handed him the beer bottle he requested. He then handed her his used cigarette, prompting her to put out the remaining ashes on the stick before opening his beverage. “Alright, we’ll see you all around then, uh…”

“Gallagher. Fiona.” Fiona introduced herself again, and then she introduced the rest of us once more before making a move towards the door.

I followed Debbie towards the door with Fiona and caught another glimpse of Mickey looking at me. It was honestly getting uncomfortable standing there and wondering if he knows anything or not. He obviously has dirt on me, if at all; otherwise, he wouldn’t be holding a secret grudge or whatever by now.

“See you later, Fiona!” Mandy called, a bit timidly before the door shut behind us. And with that, we were gone.

* * *

We didn’t really stay long, according to Fiona from moments ago with proof of our actual visit. Truthfully, I didn’t want to be there, either, knowing that I had the slightest idea on who the hell bothered to move into the vacant home a few steps away from us and decided to trespass on our property. The idea that he could easily come back again and actually take something was stuck on my mind. I mean, what was gonna happen if Liam was awake and Mickey was about to strike him or something? What if he did the same to Debbie? Or to Fiona, for that matter?

“Ian?” I heard the sound of my older sister’s voice as we walked back to the house. “Something on your mind? You’ been out of it since we were in the Milkovich home.” I wasn’t expecting her to notice, much less even pay careful attention. I don’t notice shit like that until someone addresses me about it. Even if I did, with this scenario, I don’t even know if I can actually stand up – well, I’m really walking, but still – and tell Fiona everything that happened today. But she was expecting something to come out of my mouth, so I had to say it.

“It was him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mickey? That guy Mandy’s father was talking about? He broke into the house earlier today.”

We all stopped in our tracks once Fiona’s heels screeched on the pavement before she turned directly to me. “And you didn’t bother telling me?” Fiona asked furiously. She had a right to be mad; hell, I still am, too.

“He take anything?” Debbie asked, suddenly concerned.

“Not that I know of,” I explained to them. It’s actually kind of hard trying to conclude whether anything was actually taken or not. Hell, for all we know, Mickey probably swiped a toy race car from Carl without me noticing when I cleaned our room the moment after he left.

I know one thing, though: Fiona is probably livid with me, livid with Mickey. Or maybe not with him, but the fact that he would commit such act behind her back in the first place. I can’t really read Fiona’s mind, so I’m not sure which one she was furious about. However, I did notice the way she began to turn on her heel to head back to the Milkovich home, which only signaled death coming her way. “I’m gonna get to the bottom of this –“

I grabbed her arm before she got to move any further. “No, Fiona, listen,” I warned her, because her physical health meant everything to not just me, but Debbie, Liam, and my other brothers. She couldn’t go back there to confront Mr. Milkovich about his son; that would only spark more tension than what was created when we were there moments ago. “Nothing was taken, like I said. Don’t worry about it.”

She didn’t believe me. I could tell because she shot me an exasperated look followed by a sigh that seemed to have loosened every bone in her body, yet there was a lot of weight on her shoulders. I hate doing this to Fiona as much as I hate people doing this to her. What was I supposed to do, though? She’s already taking care of five other people on a twenty four-hour basis, so she already has a lot on her plate. Besides, it’s not like anyone got hurt when Mickey broke in anyways.

Fiona didn’t say anything else on the way back to the house, and it kind of worried me. My spine just wouldn’t flex for a minute at the sight of Fiona’s current demeanor. I glanced at Debbie, who looked at me as if I was getting the biggest slap in the face in the world once we made it inside. They had a right to be uncomfortable, but it’s not like I initiated anything. Right?

The walk back to the house was shorter than the walk to the Milkovich home, for some reason, and Fiona handed Liam to Debbie, instructing her to get him washed up for dinner and changed into some house clothes. That left Fiona and I on the second floor. “You know how I feel about this type of shit, Ian.” She started, and I already knew that this was going to continue on into some type of lecture.

“Fiona, I’m sorry, alright?” I interrupted for a brief moment, “but if we’re being honest here, he broke in before I made it back home today.”

“Regardless,” Fiona explained, “you should have at least contacted me at work in case anything happened. You, Debbie, Carl, Liam, Lip – you guys are my rocks, and I don’t know what the hell I’d be doing without you.” The worry in her voice prompted something funny in my stomach to start triggering. In a very special way, Fiona is our rock, too. Without her, we’d most likely be stuck in the system until DCFS decided to separate us all for good. Either that, or Lip wouldn’t be in college right now, but instead, doing Fiona’s job as the guardian of the house. He couldn’t risk that, especially with his academic standing.

I looked back at her, because honestly, I didn’t have a lot to say about that. She was right. “I’m sorry.” I replied in defeat once again.

Fiona gave me a sympathetic look and then extended both of her arms out to me for a hug. I walked into her cocoon of warmth and hugged her right back. Fiona wasn’t like the rest of us; she had her life taken away from her the moment things went to shit between Frank and Monica, and she was left carrying their weight up until this day. At least with Lip, he got a chance to go to college; the closest thing Fiona got was a GED. However, it was a sacrifice she had to make, because the alpha dog in every pack won’t go down without a fight. I know damn well Fiona won’t any time soon.

“I want you to get washed up for dinner, okay?” she whispered to me, loosening the grip she had on me. I nodded back before running upstairs to wash my hands. She’ll be okay; we’ll be okay.

* * *

The water bill had to be paid today. Thing is, we’re about eighteen dollars short. Everyone in the house scouted around for any loose change to contribute to the water bill, but it wasn’t enough to keep the water on for the rest of the day. Usually when this happens, we end up working more hours doing whatever we did for money – Fiona at Patsy’s Pies, Debbie with her babysitting job, and me at the Kash N’ Grab.

Unfortunately, for me, there was no inventory today, and everything else in the store was taken care of, according to the owner’s wife, Linda. The store wasn’t getting many customers today, so I was out of luck. However, it couldn’t hurt to ask.

The man behind it all, Kash, had been stocking up on some of the big bags of candy in one of the aisles when I had addressed him first. “Kash, can I ask a favor?” I spoke, my hands buried deep in my pockets.

For some reason, he was always delighted to see me. I liked it; it made me feel like I’m special to someone outside of my family. He always listened to my problems, too, when others were too busy to hear them. So when I asked him for this little favor, which didn’t seem to be that little at all, he didn’t hesitate to help me out. “Sure, Ian. What do you need?”

“We’re running low on cash to pay for the water bill, and I was wondering if there was anything extra I could do around here. Like, more stock?” I asked him.

“We’re all done with stocks, Ian. I don’t know what else to tell you.” Kash replied with a hopeless shrug.

I turned towards the refrigerators stocked with milk, cream cheese, eggs, and whatnot. I could faintly see some stacked boxes and some metal shelves that were in the back room from here. I had only one other option on how to deal with this, and it wasn’t going to be the best idea in the world, that’s for sure. I wasn’t even positive if I wanted to ask Kash for this type of favor, but what was I supposed to do? I didn’t have much of a choice.

“I have something else in mind.”

Kash took about a couple of seconds to figure out what I was even talking about, but once he got it, my stomach turned at the sight of his reaction. “Ian…”

“We’re desperate here, Kash.” I pleaded. “Fiona’s got her hands full with everyone and everything, Lip’s out in college, and it’s just the rest of us. I’m out of options.” Which was too bad considering that I knew what kind of man Kash was and what standards he held to himself. He was a family man, despite the idea that he was cheating on his wife to begin with. He also had morals, ones that didn’t include asking someone for sex so they could help out the unfortunate ones.

Life was like polar bears; it’s too precious to get wiped out of existence. As they always say, you only live once. So many polar bears were dying out day by day, and here I am, thinking in the back of my mind how fucked I and the rest of my family was. Shit, I’m surprised Fiona didn’t pass out after taking care of us for most of her life. All I needed from Kash was this one favor. Just once, and I’ll be out of his hair faster than head lice.

I noticed the somewhat reluctant sigh that escaped his mouth. “Just this once, Ian. Okay?” I think he read my mind.

We went back to the freezer area and began removing clothes. Something about this felt weird, especially knowing that Linda could easily pop out somewhere. Since Kash and I began doing this shit, I wasn’t really the one to feel confident about it all. Kash once told me that he found out he was gay after he married and had kids. Not sure how exactly, but it happened.

And here we are, ridding layers in the back of a corner store.

I kissed him first, starting off at a slow pace. He was taller than me, so my neck felt a little strained when I got a bit lower. Kash seemed to like it, though, and I prefer it that way for this to work. There was some type of taste on his skin that I couldn’t really put my finger on. He smelled like spices that someone left in their pantry. It was rich, to say the least, and that was the only thing I could focus on every time Kash and I would have our way with each other. Call me whatever you want, but it’s one of my natural instincts, is all.

I could only make it as far down as his waist towards the elastic of his boxers when I heard the bell from the front door open. We were both very still, listening to who was coming in. If it was a customer, they sure did a piss poor job of waiting for an employee to assist them with their purchase. Kash was putting his clothes back on, keeping his ears out for the next thing that was to happen. I did the same.

I squinted my eyes a bit at the refrigerator holding all of the milk cartons. I wasn’t sure exactly how Mickey found out where I worked, but it worked up a lot of nerves within my body. What pissed me off was how he blindly took a milk carton from one of the shelves without noticing that I was watching him. He seemed to have a couple packets of Snickers, some cigarettes, and whatever other foods he had supplied in a box for dinner at his house. Too bad he didn’t have intentions on paying for any of that stuff.

Kash was too late on catching him, for Mickey had left the store, most likely back to his house. I saw him cursing himself out, and I couldn’t blame him. “Linda is going to kill me,” he told me in defeat.

I couldn’t let Kash get in trouble again, not by Linda or by Mickey, for that matter. His life can’t be in jeopardy after one robbery. “I know who he is, if that helps at all.” I offered the least of my service, which seemed to have perked Kash’s ears up a tad. “He kinda broke into our house, too.”

“He did what?” Kash asked out of seriousness.

“He didn’t steal anything, if you’re worried about that.” I paused and then shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know why, but –“

I was interrupted by an exasperated sigh from Kash’s nostrils. His hands gripped the edge of the counter behind him as he took a few moments to calm down. I didn’t like seeing him like this. The store is gonna be in jeopardy. Linda could easily find out, and Kash’s marriage could also be in jeopardy. Hell, it’s already bad enough that he’s fucking one of his employees in the back room, but now with the robberies taken into play…

“I’ll talk to him.” I declared in that moment.

Kash looked at me, confused. “But you don’t know where he –“

“He’s a new neighbor. I met his family the other day.” I explained. “Trust me. I can find him.” I wanted Kash to understand that I could do this. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t going to let Mickey get away with this again. I wanted him to know that this kind of thing isn’t new for me, and that I have his back. I just want this to fucking end.

Kash nodded at me slowly. “Okay,” was all he told me, and I held my promise until the end of my shift.

* * *

I feel like a fucking servant in this house, and it’s not even funny. I figured that, after my brothers and I moved to another location, our lives could change for once. I wasn’t getting that here, not now.

My dad was on the couch in his boxers and a white undershirt watching the sports channel. My brother Iggy was there with him with a bottle of beer in his hands, shouting at the television like a fucking wild dog. Of course, I was the one cooking in the kitchen because, according to Dad, that’s what girls are meant to do.

Someday I’ll be long gone from here. I mean, I don’t have the best grades or anything, and I have been consistently moving around a lot, which kind of conflicts with my education, but that’s not going to stop me from creating a life out of this hell hole. I can find a job as a teacher or something. I often teach Mickey some of the things I learn in school, as much as he hates trying to learn about it. My GPA doesn’t really have a positive effect on my future, but I’m at least smarter than most of the assholes in my family.

The burgers weren’t that burnt. Well, at least to me, they weren’t. My dad likes them well done but not tasting like charcoal. Sometimes I wish he would just come the fuck in here and cook them himself, if he has very specific preferences like that. Sometimes I wish I could say some of these things to his face, but I know he wouldn’t respond very well to them.

The door slammed open, and I almost jumped out of my skin. Mickey came in through the front door with a plastic bag full of stuff. I know damn well he didn’t pay for it, knowing that Dad didn’t give him any shopping money earlier. Fucking bastard.

“You got my beer son?” I heard Dad speak from the couch. Mickey didn’t respond, as usual, but unfortunately, our dad is too much of an asshole to really understand why.

He came into the kitchen with me and placed the bag on the counter next to me. I saw him pull out a carton of milk and a box of spaghetti. There was also some Snickers and some cigarettes in the bag as well. From all of this stuff he brought back, I already knew Mickey was gonna be in deep shit.

Once the milk was put away, I grabbed onto his shoulder so he would face me. He had a frown on his face, but I had to give him a piece of my mind. “Where did you get this stuff?” I asked him as my hands moved, forming different symbols and such he could only understand.

He looked at me and motioned something back. From what I could tell, he said, “from the corner store a few miles that way.” Wherever _that way_ actually was, that is.

“Did you pay for them?” I asked back, signing to him once more. He shook his head, and I swore I should have thrown one of these cooking burgers at his face. “Damn it, Mickey. They’re gonna come looking for you!” I scolded him, signing again.

My dad’s voice made me jump again. “He get me my fucking beer?” he called. He must have heard me talking to him.

“No, but he got the cigarettes.” I told him back.

I feel so fucking stupid now, ‘cause I know in the back of my mind what my dad is gonna do to Mickey. Whenever someone in the house didn’t follow his orders, he hits them. Well, he only does it to the two of us; Iggy is normally my dad’s favorite, and our other brothers are hardly here anymore. Being the youngest and the only girl in the family was hell enough; I didn’t need any physical indication from my father.

Dad was boiling up on the inside somewhere, but before he got a chance to do anything, someone was knocking on the front door. No one moved for a moment. “Well are you gonna stand there like a fucking statue or what?” I gave in after that and walked straight to the door, hoping Mickey was praying to himself back there.

It was kind of a surprise, but Ian was there. Not exactly sure why, but he made it back to our happy-go-lucky home, and he looked as if something was urgent. “Top of the evening, Gallagher,” I said, somewhat impressed.

“Mandy,” he spoke, “have you seen Mickey?”

I frowned. “What do you mean? Why?”

“Kash knows Mickey stole some things from the store today.”

Damn it. If it were possible to literally shit myself, for Mickey’s damn sake, I probably would. I knew this was coming, though. Something always comes to bite us in the ass. The therapists, psychiatrists, or whatever say it’s called karma, but I feel like it’s Satan with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Fuck,” I muttered out, and I angrily turned the other way, noticing Mickey take out one of the Snickers bars from the plastic bag in the kitchen. “Mickey!” I know he couldn’t hear me, but he had this coming.

“No, no, no. Mandy, it’s alright.” Ian stopped me, only prompting me to look back in his direction. “Kash just doesn’t want it to happen again, that’s all. But his wife is kind of on his ass about inventory, and if she notices that the money is gone, then she’ll flip her shit.”

I could only nod at him. He seemed to make a lot of sense of this shit for someone I only just met the other day. “How do you know?” I asked him, folding my arms in front of my chest.

Ian shrugged. “I work there.”

“Doing what?”

“Watching the register.”

I felt my eyebrow inch on my head. “Oh right, smart ass? Then how come you didn’t get to Mickey in time?” He knows I’m challenging him. Something more was up to this fucking story.

Before Ian could answer me, my dad started yelling at me from the couch in the living room. “I’m still waiting for my fucking burgers! The game’s close to half time!” My dad shouted, and that’s when I heard Iggy shout in victory about one of the teams scoring another point. There was never enough time to have a normal conversation with someone, especially someone outside of my piss poor family.

“Never mind,” I told Ian. “I should go. Dinner’s gonna be ready in a few minutes.” I was about to close the door on him when a thought came to me. Ian was already here, and I didn’t want whatever freedom I had in this house to fucking go away. My dad got to be served like he was the fucking king, Iggy got to be the prince due to favoritism in the household, and Mickey and I are always treated like shit. I needed a change around here. “Actually, you could come join us,” I offered. “We’re having burgers and fries. I cooked them.”

Ian looked at me in surprise. “Really?” I swear, he’s the opposite of everyone in my goddamn, god-forsaken family. It’s sickening and comforting at the same time. “You sure your dad won’t mind?” He then asked.

I shook my head. “I made plenty. We might have leftovers.”

And I let him in, and it felt good for once. Now if only this can keep up for the rest of the night…

Doubt it, though. My dad’s still there on the fucking couch.


	4. Steer Clear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "As bad as it was bragging about how much our dads sucked, it was comforting to have someone understand what I was going through, aside from Mandy and my siblings back at home. I probably wouldn’t survive in this house, if I was Mickey. He must have some sick survival tips or something."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kind of kept the changing first-person narratives, and this will most likely continue throughout the story. If, at all, you guys get confused, just let me know.

Mandy had cleared the table for me after inviting me into the house. It hasn’t even been that long ago since she first met me, but it felt nice to be back here again, despite what was going on with Mickey. The shelves seemed to have been assembled, and the rest of the boxes were gone. I guess the Milkoviches have officially unpacked everything. There was a bit of clutter around, but I’m not complaining.

It was when Mr. Milkovich spoke again that my blood started to boil. “The fuck is he doing here?” he asked Mandy.

“He’s staying for dinner,” Mandy told him, placing the stack of newspapers on the floor beside her bed. Of course, Mr. Milkovich seemed to not want me here, which I found to be pretty rude. He didn’t linger on it much, though, because the last few seconds of the game continued, and Iggy was shouting at the television screen again.

Mickey was in the kitchen with Mandy. If she was talking to him, it didn’t seem like it. She moved her hands a lot, and that prompted something in Mickey to turn his head towards me, an emotionless facial expression showing. Whatever the fuck he was thinking about me, I couldn’t exactly put my finger on it.

Mandy had turned the stove off and placed some of the burgers on a plate with a spatula. “Dinner’s ready.” She called, and she brought the plate of burgers and some napkins to the table before me. Mickey was close behind her with the buns and a few empty plates for his father, his siblings, himself, and for me. Mandy had gone back to the kitchen to retrieve the condiments, and Mickey looked at me once more. He seemed suspicious of me, which felt a little ironic.

Once Mandy returned, she took one of the empty plates and placed a bun on there for her dad. The burger patty, some ketchup and mustard, and some relish were added seconds after. I barely even added anything to my burger because I was too focused on Mandy serving her father behind me. She came back to the table to make Iggy’s plate when I heard Mr. Milkovich growl in disgust.

“Did you make this with your feet?” He mainly asked that to himself, it seemed like, but Mandy had heard him already.

“No. You said to have it well done.” There was frustration in her voice, and I could already tell that this was going to be a bad night.

When Mandy left with Iggy’s plate, I felt a poke in my left hand. I turned around, almost scared shitless, and saw Mickey pointing to the mustard bottle in my other hand. “Oh shit, sorry.” I spoke, handing Mickey the bottle instantly. “Why didn’t you say something man?” He took the bottle with no problem, but he still gave me a frown. I don’t know why, though; I didn’t do anything wrong.

I continued to look back at him in confusion. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t say anything back. His frown lines got a bit deeper, and fuck me if I couldn’t figure it out.

Mandy came back to serve her own plate when I addressed her. “Hey Mandy,” I started, “is there something wrong with Mickey?”

Mandy frowned. “The fuck are you talking about?”

I didn’t really know how to collectively put my words together, so I was mostly gesturing in Mickey’s direction, which was probably making him a little uncomfortable. “Can he hear me?”

“No, he’s deaf.” Mandy said that to me like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Honestly, I wouldn’t have known that from looking at him. It made perfect sense. That day at the house, it made sense to me now. Well, at least half sense, for the most part. There were still parts to this story that I was yet to understand.

Mandy sat on my right side and grabbed the ketchup when she tried getting Mickey’s attention. I noticed her hands move when she spoke. “Hey,” she spoke to Mickey, despite the fact that she said he couldn’t hear earlier, “he’s not gonna fucking bite, alright?” Mickey signed something back at her. “Just don’t fucking rob him again, alright?” Mandy asked, signing again.

I shouldn’t have brought it up, but something in me did it anyway. “He was in our house yesterday.”

Mandy’s ears perked up suddenly. “What?”

“Yeah, we had a bit of a tornado effect in mine and my brothers’ room, along with the living room, but –“

Mandy reached over and slapped Mickey with her right hand. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sure, the guy couldn’t hear his sister, but he damn well could throw his hands back at her. I couldn’t help but giggle silently as they wrestled each other at the table. Mandy pinned Mickey’s arms down before signing to him again. “Don’t fucking do it again, okay?” Mickey felt defeated, from what it looks like, as he slumped into his own chair.

I laughed it off. “It’s alright. Nothing was stolen or broken or anything.”

It felt weird telling the new neighbors that, it was was okay for one of their household members to just run in and do whatever they wanted to my house. Some people wouldn’t tolerate that type of shit. But it’s the South Side of fucking Chicago. It happens. It’s almost normal here. I’m used to it, even though house robberies aren’t everyday things.

Mandy sighed in frustration. “It’s _not_ right.” She placed the top of her burger bun on top of the condiment-doused patty on her plate. “It’s fucking stupid and wrong, is what it is.” Honestly, I couldn’t blame her. “But…” Mandy stopped for a moment, turning to her side as she noticed her father sipping the rest of her beer, and then she leaned closer to me. “I think it just happens to the Milkovich boys in the family.”

I frowned at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“My dad taught these fuckers everything he knows. He’s even teaching Mickey how to be a fucking delinquent, and he’s the youngest. He’s also dad’s least favorite because he can’t hear shit, which is stupid.” I could tell Mandy was holding in a lot of frustration from the way she whispered to me and described her father to me. I suddenly didn’t feel comfortable being here, especially with said father on the couch.

“Mandy,” he called, “fetch me some beer, will ya?”

“You drank the last one.”

“Which is why I’m askin’ for more. Don’t be a fucking dimwit like your brother over there.” I couldn’t believe this guy. What a dick.

Mandy was getting even more pissed. She excused herself from the table, abandoning her food for a brief moment. She turned to Mickey and then signed something. “Don’t stab him in the chest while I’m gone, alright?” I snickered a bit, and Mickey just rolled his eyes. Mandy was gone in a flash after that.

I started eating my burger, a little uncomfortably at first knowing that Mickey was still at the table. I was done with the first bite when Mickey tapped me again. He was signing something to me, and I was stumped. I didn’t know much about American Sign Language aside from most of the letters of the alphabet. None of the signs he was doing even matched the ones I could remember. “What?” I asked him.

He sighed and got up from his chair, signaling me to stay where I was sitting before he disappeared into the other room. His father spoke as he left. “Deaf fucker,” was all I heard escape his mouth, and I started to get mad again. Mickey may be deaf, but he’s not as stupid as people think he is. Hell, I just got to know the guy and I know that much.

Mickey came back a few seconds later with a black spiral notebook and a black pen, sitting back down next to me and writing something inside. I tried to look on at what he was even writing, but his arm and hand kept me from doing so.

Finally, he gave me the notebook for me to read and I laughed. To my surprise, he actually asked me, “you gonna start dating my sister now?” According to Mickey, I’m not sure if it was a joke or not, for he just continued eating the food in front of him. To me, it was pretty funny, though. This guy should be a fucking comedian.

I wrote something back in the notebook. “Nah, but she’s hot still.” After all, there was no denying that.

He read my note back to him and then added something on the line beneath mine. “She wishes.” I couldn’t hold the snicker that escaped my mouth that moment. Look, I get it. Mickey and Mandy were siblings and they talk about each other all the time. I was right; I thought Mandy was amazing so far, even if we’ve met for only a couple of days, but from the way Mickey described her, the somewhat comical sibling rivalry between him and his sister was amusing. It reminded me of Carl and Debbie back at home, almost.

“The fuck’s so funny back there?” Mr. Milkovich grumbled. I suddenly stopped. My mind raced back to when Mandy was describing her father to me. I wasn’t expecting this out of the new neighbors. How have they lived with this man all these years anyways?

Mr. Milkovich dismissed that question to address Mickey next to me. “Mick, grab me a cigarette, will ya?” The fact that he doesn’t accept the fact that his son has suffered through hearing loss is what irks me. It’s like, what’s the fucking point of speaking if he’s not gonna respond back to you like how you normally do? I may have just now realized this information about Mickey, but I at least learned from it.

I tapped Mickey on the arm, reaching for the notebook and writing in it. “He wants the cigarettes,” I told him, and he read it. Mickey momentarily sighed before standing up to walk back in the kitchen to get a pack of stolen cigarettes from the plastic bag.

I sometimes wondered how Mickey made it through all of this. Like, how did he go through life when he didn’t know what birds chirping in the morning sounded like? Or what rushing water and car horns sounded like? Sometimes I wondered how he managed to make it through one day when his asshole father kept saying things he couldn’t understand.

I watched Mickey skeptically as he came out of the kitchen with the pack of cigarettes in his hands. He gave them to his father before taking his seat at the table again. I couldn’t keep my eyes off his father, though. It didn’t look like he left that couch since before I came here. I mean, look at him.

Mickey had interrupted my thoughts when he tapped me on the shoulder once again, handing me the notebook. I read what he wrote. “Be lucky you’re not the one dealing with this shit.” He must have read my mind or something.

I added something on the next couple of lines. “I have an asshole dad, too. It happens to a lot of us, I guess.”

I took a bite of one of the fries on my plate before Mickey had finished writing to me. He wrote, “the fuck did your dad do?”

Oh boy, did I have a story to tell or what? Actually, this might as well be my next English paper or something, because what wasn’t there to tell about fucking Frank Gallagher.

“Dead beat. The alcoholic. The town’s most famous drunk. You’ll know who he is soon enough,” I shortened my thoughts within less than a paragraph, though it wasn’t that easy. There was more to Frank than just being a beer-loving jerk. I could go on and on about how he’s never there for his own kids or how he never bothered to help his own wife get help for her bipolar disorder, but that seemed to be a lot to just dump onto Mickey at the moment. I didn’t really trust him with that information just yet.

However, he understood what I was going through. His dad didn’t drink as much as mine, but he was just as much of an asshole as Frank.

“What, does he want a fucking trophy or something?” Mickey wrote in the notebook next. This guy sure did have humor. I didn’t care if he could hear me or not.

 “I’d give him the award for Worst Dad of the Year, if I could.”

“Nah. My dad would win by a nose.”

As bad as it was bragging about how much our dads sucked, it was comforting to have someone understand what I was going through, aside from Mandy and my siblings back at home. I probably wouldn’t survive in this house, if I was Mickey. He must have some sick survival tips or something.

“Oh yeah? Explain to me how.” I wanted to know, honestly. I didn’t want him to push into anything he doesn’t want to say, but I spilled my beans on my own father. I should get something back.

Mickey was writing something in the notebook when I heard Mr. Milkovich shout from behind me. “Where the hell is your sister with my damn booze?” He was really addressing Iggy next to him, but either way, he was still upset. He shook his head and eyed Mickey from a moment. “This is why you can’t trust people, Iggs. They never do what you want them to.” I knew he was upset at Mickey about something, but I wasn’t sure why.

I think Mickey knew what he was talking about, judging from the look on my face that I gave him when I turned away. That was when he gave me the notebook again for me to read his handwriting. “It doesn’t end well. That’s all I have to say. If I tell you too much, he’s gonna know about it and probably kill me.”

Too much of what? What the hell happened under the Milkovich roof that I shouldn’t know a lot about?

I was gonna question him about it when Mandy came through the front door again, gripping onto a heavy 12-pack of Budweiser. “Are you happy now?” Mandy asked her father, breathless. She carried the pack over to the couch and placed it on the floor with a hard thump. Mr. Milkovich and Iggy didn’t seem to care; they just dove right in.

“Anything happen over here?” Mandy asked while signing at the same time.

“Not much,” I replied, seconds before Mickey had the chance. It was better if Mandy didn’t know about me asking Mickey about their father and whatnot. It was a heavy topic to touch on at the table.

“Mickey didn’t bite your finger off, did he?” Mandy teased for a moment.

“He’s alright.” I responded.

When Mandy got a chance to sit down in her seat, she saw the notebook on the table between Mickey and me. She was about to reach for it when Mickey swiped the book away, earning him a disgusted look from Mandy. “Fine, fuck you too then, asshole.” She said while signing at him. Mickey just gave her the middle finger. I smirked.

* * *

It had been a while in the Milkovich household, but eventually the three of us at the table heard Mr. Milkovich getting drunk at the couch. He was on his sixth beer, but he still seemed to be overdoing it. The game he was watching almost ended, but I could tell that the team he was rooting for had already lost. “Fuck!” He yelled throughout the house, tossing his empty beer can down on the floor. Iggy seemed to be upset too, for he kept on debating on why number 34 should have dodged number 58 on the opposing team.

Mandy grabbed my attention and whispered, “don’t worry. Typical guy thing.”

“Are you sure?” I asked her. Even if it was a typical guy thing, it didn’t seem it would end as typically as it should. Plus, Mickey was over here with the two of us, minding his own business and not getting involved with whatever the fuck was on the screen.

“They get wild on game day.” Mandy whispered back. “But it’s best if you steer clear for a bit.” I took her advice. People got really risky when they were drunk. I knew this from experience.

Mr. Milkovich had left his seating area to pace around the middle of the room a bit. Mandy was looking back at him cautiously. “Dad,” she spoke, “don’t you think that’s a little too much to drink?”

He looked back at her in disbelief. “The fuck kind of question is that?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. _Mandy, please don’t_ , I begged from the back of my mind.

“I just thought –“

“No, you didn’t,” Mr. Milkovich interrupted, “because you don’t fucking think! Everyone has to do thinking for you and your fucking brother these days, do they?” Mandy stuttered a bit, causing Mr. Milkovich to kick his foot up against the wall somewhere. I looked at Mickey, and he started to get a little nervous too. He was right; this wasn’t going to end well.

Mr. Milkovich eyed me for a split second. “And get this fucking nobody out of my house!” I knew he was drunk, but even that stung worse than a bee ever could.

“He’s a friend; he can stay as long as he wants.”

I’m not a scientist or anything, but I knew that struck a chord in Mr. Milkovich somewhere. He glared at her for the next five seconds. I suddenly didn’t feel comfortable.

“Um, Mandy…” I spoke nervously. “It’s getting kind of late. I think I should –“

Before I got a chance to get up, Mandy stopped me, panicking. “No, I – Ian –“

“Yes, please, go on to your cheery ass family on the other side of the world and leave me to my two kids. Is that clear?” Mr. Milkovich told me. My heart started racing as the tension in the room started to build up. I don’t think Fiona would want to see me come home to a black eye.

I glanced at Mandy and then Mickey, both sporting pleading looks on their faces. I felt bad for leaving them to this mess. They didn’t deserve it at all. But Mr. Milkovich seemed like the man that would beat the shit out of anyone, no matter who they were, if they didn’t listen to him. I apologized silently to both of the youngest Milkoviches before getting up and leaving the house.

And once the spring air hit my face, I knew I was glad to get the fuck out of there. Then again, I felt so much guilt at the same time.

* * *

I couldn’t believe what was happening. Ian actually left, and I felt even more scared than before. I thought I could get this to work for the rest of the evening, but my plans for all of that failed. And here my batshit father was, drunk and about to punish me again. I would have called Child Services right now if it weren’t for his threat to get rid of me if I did.

“You two do as I say the moment I fucking say it,” my dad growled minutes after Ian was gone. “Not a second after.”

“It wasn’t Ian’s fault or anyone else’s,” I told him angrily. “You decided to get drunk off of six beer cans and throw your shit at us. This is why we hardly invite guests over, because you’re always drunk on your ass!”

I know I said too much, but it had to be said. My dad obviously doesn’t care about how I or anyone else feels if he won’t accept that I’m right. The last time we had neighbors over the house to eat dinner with us, Dad ordered Mickey to clean up the table. Unfortunately, Mickey couldn’t hear what he was saying, and that only made Dad drag him up with a strong hand and shake him until he got the point. Thing is, even if Mickey could read lips a little, with Dad going off at him, he wouldn’t fully understand what he was talking about.

At the last second, Dad charged at me, and I scrambled up from my seat, literally about to piss myself. “The fuck did you say, you little shit?” He growled. Before he reached me, though, Mickey stood defensively in front of me. I didn’t like it when Mickey did that. Sure, he was being the big brother I’d expect out of him, but I don’t want to risk him getting hurt, either.

Dad suddenly got mad at him. “Move the fuck out of the way, Mick.” He tried to calm down as best as he could, but Mickey wouldn’t budge. His hands were balled up into fists at his side, and his shoulders were stronger than ever. Unfortunately, they weren’t strong enough to withstand my father’s hands. “Don’t fuck with me. I said move!”

Mickey and Dad were fighting in front of me, and before I knew it, Dad had punched him in the face, sending him to the ground. I wanted to help Mickey and see if he was okay or not, but I had to get away from Dad.

So I ran the other direction towards my room. However, it wasn’t fast enough.

My dad had grabbed me by the hair, and I instantly fell to the ground. Everything started to fucking hurt. He punched me in the side, and I felt his fingers tighten around my neck. I wasn’t suffocating or anything yet, but the force he put on me still fucking hurt.

I noticed Mickey crawl over to grab at Dad’s leg, and Dad whirled around to punch Mickey once again. He pinned him down and scratched at his exposed skin, punching him continuously in the side. I couldn’t help it; I had to help him. I started to crawl away towards my room, but then I felt a blow in my side before I fell again.

I think Dad was done. I wasn’t really sure, for the kick in the side made my eyes close shut. I was on the verge of crying. I didn’t hear any heaving breathing from Dad or anything, so he most likely left the room. Where the fuck Iggy was when all this shit happened, I’m not sure. He wasn’t much help, though.

Someone’s hand gently touched my face, and I knew it was Mickey. When my eyes opened, everything seemed cloudy. My tears didn’t shed yet, but my brother knew I was about to cry. I blinked a bit to watch him sign to me. His arm seemed to have hurt, but I could tell he was signing, “I’m sorry, Mandy.”

More tears fell from my eyes as I watched him. I signed back, ignoring the pain that was going through my body. “It’s alright. Thanks for the help, Mickey. I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was something I learned at orientation at my new school. Our leaders lectured us on violence, date rape, etc. and one thing we learned was that we shouldn't leave the victim behind when there's trouble. It had me thinking a lot, which is why I included it here. Just a little PSA, people: do not do this at home. Or at all. Anywhere.


	5. A Fucking Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This was one of those moments where I needed my big brother to help me out. I needed Mickey to feel the thumps of the walls from where he was sleeping in the other room so he could call the fucking cops. I needed Ian to come running back over here with some professional help to get my dad to just leave me the fuck alone. I needed someone to come the fuck in here to tell him to stop."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is kind of early on in the story, but it gets really heavy in this chapter. Here's a warning to you guys now because I don't want to trigger you or anything. If you feel uneasy towards rape, then I highly suggest you brace yourselves.

I got out of there as fast as I could. I couldn’t watch that horror show anymore. Seeing Mickey and Mandy’s faces before I managed to close the door behind me was what scared me the most. I still can’t believe I actually did that, left them behind to their batshit crazy father. Sure, it was kind of a personal problem from one end of the spectrum, but then again, I was a guest in their home. Not just that, but Mickey and Mandy’s neighbor and potential new friend. I could have done something about this, but instead, I left them to danger. The thought of it all is making me feel like shit.

Walking back to the house was pretty hard on my part. Weight was being put on my legs after what I had witnessed. Weight from the guilt I was experiencing was now being place on me for being such a fucking idiot. I don’t know what I was thinking. The youngest Milkovich siblings were probably going to hate me forever because of it.

My house was right there by the CTA train tracks, thank God. The closer I made it to the house, the more secure I felt. However, the further I got away from the Milkovich home, the heavier my body got by the minute. Fiona had to know about this. Someone had to know about this, because I’m not going to let one minute go pass with me realizing what the fuck I just saw.

I’m very well aware that I missed dinner with my family. I could tell because, once I entered the house, Carl and Liam were both in their pajamas, and Fiona was in the kitchen washing the dishes. My idea of telling Fiona what happened between Mandy, Mickey, and Mr. Milkovich kind of lingered in the air a bit, making me feel more nervous by the second as I made it into the kitchen with my big sister.

“Hey stranger,” Fiona sang out as she noticed me. “Mac and cheese, your favorite. You missed it.”

I leaned against the counter, nervously. “It’s alright.” I wasn’t in the mood to discuss food right now, especially since the burgers and fries that Mandy graciously prepared at the Milkovich house were about to come back up my mouth. “I ate already.”

“Really?” Fiona asked, surprised. “When?”

“A few minutes ago at the new neighbor’s house.”

Fiona’s eyes immediately shot up at me. I knew what that meant. She didn’t trust me going back to the Milkovich house alone, especially knowing that Mickey had broke into the house the other day. I didn’t need her to explain anything. “Don’t worry; I talked to Mickey and Mandy, and we handled the situation about…you know…” I kept my hands in my pockets, not knowing what else to say at the moment.

Fiona’s wash rag was dumped into the soapy water behind her as she turned to me, a hand on her hip and seriousness on her face. “Ian, I’m getting concerned –“

“If it’s about Mickey, then that’s a cake walk you’ve gotta be concerned about compared to…”

I stopped. I wanted to continue, but Fiona was only getting even more worried about what the hell I was even doing. A weight in my stomach had immediately dropped just looking at her facial expression. “Compared to what?” she asked me, a frown evident on her face.

I gulped and then bit down on my bottom lip. I was pretty sure it was getting redder by the minute as I tried to collect whatever words I had to say to Fiona right then and there. That’s when I remembered that making sure two new neighbors were safe in their home was more important than my nerves. So I just let it out.

“It’s their dad.” I confessed, and Fiona continued to listen. “I was eating at the Milkovich house, and he got drunk.”

Fiona’s eyes seemed to have dilated more than I thought they ever would. “He did what?”

“And then he got mad at Mandy before I was kicked out of the house.”

Fiona’s hardened expression seemed to have softened a tad, but not by that much. Some concern was showing again – not just for me, but for Mandy and supposedly Mickey as well. “Are they okay?”

I shrugged, because honestly, as much as Mickey expressed about the two being used to this type of shit, I wasn’t sure if they were really okay with it. “He treats them like slaves. Mandy mentioned something about treating Mickey like a dog despite the fact that he can’t hear a thing he says.” When Fiona shot me a confused look, I clarified for her. “Mickey’s deaf.” And Fiona nodded. She wasn’t satisfied with any of the information I gave her though. “I feel guilty, Fiona.”

“Why?” Fiona asked me, drying her hands with a paper towel.

“Because I…” I stammered a bit while trying to explain myself. “I just left them back there. Mickey and Mandy, they both gave me pleading looks like I had responsibility over them or something, and I didn’t do anything about it but pussy away from the situation like a damn chicken.”

The guilt I had within me before continued to build up, even from standing there in front of Fiona like that. What the hell was wrong with me? Maybe I’m not worthy of being Mandy and Mickey’s friends at all. Maybe I’m not worthy of being a good neighbor to them, either. I feel so fucking helpless; it’s not funny. Hell, what’s funny about an alcoholic father making their children do his dirty work and, at the same time, treating them like shit? I’ve been through that bullshit for too long with Frank, and I can’t let Mickey and Mandy do the same with their father.

Fiona seemed to know what I was thinking, even from standing a few steps away from me. She didn’t have to explain it. We lived under the same roof for as long as we both could remember. She knew just as much as I did, maybe even more, about what it was like living with a fucking asshole who could give three shits about their kids. The Gallaghers were too accustomed to this type of behavior, and it irked me to no end. It made happiness seem to be nonexistent in the South Side of Chicago.

I didn’t even notice walk up to me since I was stuck in my own thoughts, but her arms embraced me when she took in my current form. “It’s not your fault, Ian. None of this will ever be your fault, you got that?” She asked me, lowly and sincerely. “It’s also not Mickey or Mandy’s fault that their dad treats them like that.” There was a brief silence before she went on. “When you have kids, they’re supposed to come first. If you’re using them for your own personal comfort and luxury, then what’s the point in having kids at all?”

Those words seemed to have been engraved in my brain the moment Fiona said them. Fiona was always right when it came to family values, so I wasn’t that much surprised. Mr. Milkovich had a lesson to learn if he wanted to keep Mickey and Mandy under his roof. Keyword, _if_.

“I still feel like we should do something.” I spoke into her, though it sounded a bit muffled considering that I was still holding onto Fiona’s warmth. She created a bit of space in between us so she could better understand me. “I don’t think Mickey and Mandy are safe over there.”

Fiona nodded in agreement, but then seized herself. “What do you think we should do?”

 _Anything?_ Well, that’s what I wanted to say to her, but I didn’t want to broaden my thoughts to actually choking Mr. Milkovich with a rope and making him suffocate. Too many of us in this household have experienced too many encounters with the police for one lifetime, and we couldn’t risk anything.

Still, someone else had to know about this. Someone had to know what happened in the Milkovich home behind closed doors. Someone had to know what was happening to Mandy and Mickey.

Out of all the options I had, there was only one solution.

* * *

The hot water spraying on my bare body was hurting some of the wounds that appeared on my body from the recent encounter I had with Dad. I fucking hated this, having to feel physical pain mixed with the emotional pain. I hated living here, and we just moved in. I know Mickey did, too, because I saw the way he was close enough to punching Dad in the nose.

As my hands ran over the skin on my waist, I started cringing against the touch. Everything was hurting, so bad. No one deserved this shit. Better yet, _I_ didn’t deserve this shit. Mickey sure as hell didn’t deserve this shit. But it happened. It still happened, and life didn’t get any fairer after that.

Once I was done cleaning up, I carefully got out of the shower, drying myself off and tying the towel to my head as I put on my pajama pants. I tousled my hair until water wasn’t dripping down from it before I put on a pajama tank. It didn’t really cover the bruise that I got near my shoulder blade, but it was going to do for now.

I walked out of the bathroom after hanging my towel on the rack. Before I made it to my bedroom, I took a peek inside Mickey’s. He didn’t look any better than I did, but he was able to get some rest after all of this. How he was able to put up a fight with my dad, I’m not sure. He looks so fucking exhausted, and I couldn’t blame him. Our demons just seemed to find their way through our lives no matter what house we moved into.

He seemed okay for now, so I closed his bedroom door, leaving it open just a crack in case he needed something later on. I was getting tired, so I walked into my room, turned off my bedroom light, and went to sleep.

However, I didn’t get much sleep. I heard noises out in the hallway. It sounded like a gruff old man shuffling his feet on the hardwood floor. That’s when I remembered something: my dad was still drunk off his ass.

The thing is, I was a little too drowsy to notice. Something in me told me not to move or whatever, but then I started getting nervous when the light turned back on again. My dad climbed in the bed with me, the springs from the bed creaking. What the fuck was even going on, I wasn’t sure. I had to say something, so I spoke up. “Dad, what are you –“

He grumbled. “Mm, turn your ass over, you fucking slut.” It sounded a bit slurred, but I know what he was referring to.

I didn’t want it, though. I didn’t. This was my fucking room. I couldn’t let him blindly rape me while I was trying to sleep. I tried pushing him off of me, but his arms started to become dead weight on me. He eventually caught on to what I was trying to do, despite the fact that he was drunk, and pulled me down with him.

“You get your ass back here.” I heard him slur again, and I felt the moisture get to the corner of my eyes.

This was one of those moments where I needed my big brother to help me out. I needed Mickey to feel the thumps of the walls from where he was sleeping in the other room so he could call the fucking cops. I needed Ian to come running back over here with some professional help to get my dad to just leave me the fuck alone. I needed someone to come the fuck in here to tell him to stop.

I struggled a while longer and, before I knew it, something struck me in the back of my head, and I was out like a light.

* * *

I woke up a few hours later. My bedroom light was still on, and my bedside clock read 3:45 a.m. I didn’t realize I was out for that long.

What I also didn’t realize was that Dad was still on the bed behind me.

He was snoring very loudly, no longer drunk from the booze from earlier. He didn’t have his pants on and neither did I. In fact, I noticed my panties were almost underneath the bed when I looked down at the floor.

This had to be a nightmare. This was a fucking nightmare. This was a never-ending, fucking nightmare. I needed it to not be real, just this once. Pinching myself, however, didn’t help the situation. I still woke up to the same room with the same man sleeping behind me in my fucking bed.

I hated my dad. I hated that fucking moron so fucking much. I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want to live under his fucking roof anymore. I don’t even care if I was six feet under; it’s better than suffering through a life featuring Terry motherfucking Milkovich.

I was crying. Not even crying, _sobbing_. This was my life story. I got raped in my own bedroom by my drunk father with an oblivious, deaf older brother sleeping in the other room. Iggy, Colin, Jamie, and Tony lived on their own with their girlfriends and whatnot, so they were able to at least have their own life stories to tend to. Mine rested within this very house, the one that is bringing back terrible nightmares. Nightmares of when I saw my mother get slapped for not making dinner in time. Nightmares of when I saw my brother get kicked to the corner of his old bedroom for not making it home on time. Nightmares of when I was pinned to the wall, almost being choked to death for embarrassing my father in public.

Truth is, though, I was the one who was embarrassed. I was born by a loving mother yet a devilish father. The Milkoviches, we were all born under a semi-loving set of parents only to be stuck with the son of fucking Satan.

I want to go home. I want to go back to my old home. I fucking hate it here. I hate living here with my fucking dad. Sometimes I wish I was never born to witness shit like this.

Through the tears the continuously fell down my face, I saw a figure standing in the doorway. Mickey was awake, and he looked scared looking at me and Dad in bed together, almost too scared to walk over and do something about it. Still, he bravely made his way over to look down at my face. I could only look up at him, still sobbing and in my most helpless form.

Mickey bit his bottom lip at me, kneeling down so he and I were at eye level. He slowly signed something to me. He told me, “Did he…?” I didn’t need for him to finish that sentence, because I already know what he wanted to ask. I didn’t want to hear – better yet, _see_ – someone inquire something that I already, and unfortunately, know.

I don’t even know if I responded to his question or not; I just sobbed even harder than before. My knees came up to my chest, and I clutched at them. Mickey didn’t need to see me like this. I look like damaged goods. I’m not sure if that’s the same way Mickey felt, but I feel like it should.

But it wasn’t. Mickey actually hugged me. He was there for me like an older brother should, though I wasn’t being selfish or anything about it. I felt hot tears on the side of my face, but they didn’t feel like mine. Mickey sniffled a bit before rubbing my arm for comfort. He was trying to stay strong for me, is what that was. It’s my responsibility to stay strong for him, too. Sure, he’s my older brother, but he’s also deaf. He’s one of the unfortunate people in the Milkovich family that has to suffer through this his entire life. And if that was true, someone had to guide him through. That left me.

He released me and slowly started signing again. He asked me, “are you going to call the police?”

I feel like I should. I mean, it’s not like Dad is stirring in his sleep at all. The alcohol must have knocked him out dead. After looking at my dad for a few moments, I turned back to Mickey and signed to him again: “I don’t know, but I’ll try.” That’s what I was doing after all, right? Mickey and I, we’ve been trying so hard to survive in this fucking hole for so long. We both needed a break.

Dad wouldn’t allow this shit, though. If any of us were to call the cops on him, we were both dead. I was scared shitless as to what would happen. I didn’t want to risk my life, or even Mickey’s, for that matter. Looking into my brother’s face, though, I needed to do something at the same time. At the moment, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do. There were too many things stirring in my mind. I’m still traumatized by what the fuck all happened within a matter of hours.

I kissed Mickey on his cheek and signed again. “Go back to sleep,” I told him, with my lips and my fingers. He looked at me cautiously, not sure if he even wanted to sleep again, but still listened. Once he was back in his room, I carefully got out of the bed, making sure Dad didn’t move, and I crept out of the room to wash up. If I waited any longer, I think the disgusting essence of my dad’s body would be stuck on me forever.

* * *

I was too distracted to sleep last night. My mind was stuck on what Mandy and Mickey were up to. I thought about whether if something happened to them or not. That was all I thought about during the first three periods of class. I wasn’t really called on for my distractedness getting in the way of my work, but I knew it was already. But I couldn’t help it; I was concerned for the two Milkoviches. Besides, logarithms weren’t really interesting anyways.

Thank God fourth period was over, though. I left out of there like a bat out of hell so I could make it to my locker to retrieve my History book. I thought I was dreaming for a second, but down the hall, I saw Mandy walking up to me. I was really excited to see her now. “I didn’t know you went here.” I greeted her.

Mandy shrugged. “It’s the closest school we could find.” She made a stop in front of me, leaning against the set of lockers. She seemed out of it for some reason. She had a right to be, though; it must be hard living in a household with an asshole like Mr. Milkovich. Frank isn’t even that bad compared to him. Mickey was definitely right all along.

“How are things with your dad?” I asked Mandy, locking my locker back up so we could walk down the hall together.

Mandy shrugged again. “Fine, I guess.”

“Did something happen when I left the house yesterday?”

“Ian, why are you asking so many questions?”

This took me back a bit, because Mandy was usually open to whatever I had to say. Now, it felt as if she was trying to block me off. “What are you talking about?”

“What do you mean what the fuck I’m talking about?” Her voice started to rise. This wasn’t a good sign.

“You and Mickey aren’t safe over there,” I clarified. The fact that I even had to didn’t make sense. Mandy knew what was going on. Mickey did, too. If they didn’t, then what happened yesterday might as well have not existed. Unfortunately, it did, and someone had to get to the bottom of it. “How can you stand that guy?”

“I have no other choice; he’s my dad.” I could see the hurt look on Mandy’s face, even through the bangs that she had on her forehead that were protruding her eyes.

I sighed. “Mandy, I’m worried for you guys, alright?” I spoke after a moment of silence. “Even Fiona is getting concerned herself –“

Mandy stopped, almost bumping me back accidentally with her arm. She whirled around at me, her jet black hair tossing behind her. “How does Fiona know about this?” She had a frown on her face, as if I was the one who did something wrong.

“Someone had to know about this, Mandy. Your dad looked as if he was going to beat the shit out of you before I left out of there.”

Mandy didn’t argue with me anymore. She huffed, moving some stray strands of hair out of her face as she tried to collect herself again. She was pacing back and forth in front of me, wondering what words she was going to use to address me. Before she had anything to say, the bell for fifth period rang. She got frustrated again. “I’ll let you off the hook this time, Gallagher.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her. “You don’t have a choice.” And I knew I was right, judging by the way she flipped me off. We went our separate ways to class after that.

* * *

School dragged on for too long, is what it felt like to me. I’m just glad I was able to get out of there. During every class, my mind just wandered from one direction to the next. I couldn’t fucking stand it.

I met up with Mandy again in the hallway again, and the question I wanted to ask her was stuck on my tongue until I walked up to her after school. “Are you and Mickey free after school today?”

“That depends.” Mandy responded, a stern look showing on her face after our earlier encounter.

“Come by to my place.” I offered her. She looked at me like I was crazy, and I sheepishly smirked in response. “I mean, it’s only fair, since I came to your place twice.” Well, that, and the fact that they didn’t deserve to go back to that villain back at their place – too soon, at least.

She nodded and looked at me as if she was waiting for me to guide the way or something, so I led her outside of the school. Once we made it to the stairway, we both noticed Mickey standing on the sidewalk absentmindedly. Mandy ran over to give her brother a hug. Once I came up to both of them, I addressed Mandy again. “He didn’t have school today or something?”

Mandy shook her head. “Ever since he went deaf, Dad always made fun of him, thinking that he was too stupid for education.” Mandy started to let go of Mickey, still looking in my direction. “Mom and I brought school to him when we couldn’t bring him to school.”

That must have sucked for Mickey, not going to school because of what his fucking dad thought. I mean, sure, he didn’t have to suffer like Mandy and I did with literally dropping our faces into textbooks every morning, but he was better than what his father thought he was. Mickey was probably a really smart guy, and I didn’t know it. Who knows?

I looked back at the Milkovich siblings. Mandy was signing something while she spoke. “We’re going to Ian’s place.”

Mickey started to sign something that I couldn’t comprehend at first. “I don’t give a fuck, Mick,” Mandy replied while signing back to him. “He’s probably still dead on his ass from the alcohol he had last night. Besides, we’re returning the favor to Ian, remember?”

Mickey didn’t seem one hundred percent confident with Mandy’s choice to come to my house, but he didn’t debate it anymore. He followed us all the way there.

I could feel myself getting a tad bit happier on the inside, knowing that I’d be giving these two the break they needed. Hopefully, Fiona had extra food lying around; this was going to be a long afternoon.


	6. Teach Me Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There was always a life lesson to learn in the Gallagher household. I don’t know how Fiona managed to do it, but she always found a way to teach us something new within these walls. If not teach us, she’ll remind us of what we already know. No hired official from any institution can or will teach as Fiona teaches."

Gallagher seemed to be too ecstatic about this shit. Funny thing is, I know why he dragged Mickey and I to his house, and it wasn’t just to get down in the living room and have Family Game Night or whatever the hell these people did for fun.

I’m not exactly sure why I’m upset about this, either. For the first time since we moved in, Mickey and I are going somewhere, and doing errands for Dad wasn’t involved. We were free – well, temporarily, which sucks ass, but still.

Ian was a few steps ahead of me like the little Boy Scout he thinks he is, and Mickey was a couple steps behind me, taking in what the neighborhood looked like. The rest of the South Side wasn’t that pretty, to be honest. Dad’s motivation for moving here, not sure. There were plenty of other good places in the world; I think Chicago was made to be a reminder for poor people to see what they were missing out on in other parts of the world.

Finally, Ian indicated that his house was close by. We neared a blue house with a brown front door, a silver gate going around the perimeter, and some tan, wooden stairs. I followed Ian up to the front door, grabbing Mickey and making sure he was still behind me. That’s when the door opened and a girl, younger than all of us put together, eyed Ian and then Mickey and me. “Fiona’s not home,” she told Ian first, opening the door some more so she could let him in. “She’s working a double shift at the diner today.”

When we entered the home, there was a tiny little area where coats and stuff could be hung up, and then there was another door that led us to the living room of the Gallagher household. The inside looked warmer than anything I’ve seen in the ads for new homes I saw before we moved. It wasn’t really clean, but at least Ian’s family made an effort to put things where they should.

Ian took his backpack off and threw it carelessly by the couch on the floor. When he noticed that the girl – I assumed it was Ian’s younger sister – was looking at Mickey and me, Ian began introducing us. “Debbie, this is Mandy and Mickey Milkovich, our new neighbors,” Ian told his sister, “Mandy and Mickey, this is my little sister, Debbie.”

I think Debbie and I had a clear understanding of each other, for we coolly said hey to each other like we knew what’s up. Mickey just nervously waved back. “My brother’s deaf, so don’t expect a whole monologue to fall directly out of his mouth.” Ian silently laughed on the side somewhere at my remark.

Debbie frowned at me with a bit of concern on her face. “So…he can’t hear?” she asked, taking one glance at Mickey, who shyly looking down at the floor from the corner of his eye.

“Not a goddamn thing.”

Ian started to go into the kitchen up ahead, and I followed him. “You guys want anything to eat before I start on homework?” he directed towards Mickey and me, rounding towards the refrigerator to grab a can of soda. I signed Ian’s words to Mickey so he would understand, but he wasn’t in the mood to eat anything, so he just backed off.

I sat on one of the stools by the kitchen counter while Mickey looked at all of the magnets and whatnot on the refrigerator door. When I noticed him grab the blue letter S off one side, I left my stuff in the chair and grabbed his shoulder.

“Will you leave their shit alone? They don’t want you touching their stuff.” I spoke while angrily signing to him.

Equally annoyed, Mickey signed back: “It’s none of your fucking business what I do around here.”

“Apparently, it is, if we got into shit with Ian before we made a formal entrance in this fucking house,” I signed back. Mickey just rolled his eyes and sat down at the dinner table.

Ian had heard me from the living room and didn’t hesitate speaking up. “Mickey’s fine, Mandy,” he told me. “As long as I can see what he’s up to, I’m good.”

I took out a Calculus notebook out of my purple and black-plaid backpack. “Sometimes that isn’t enough,” I reminded him as he took a seat next to me at the counter. “Mickey’s a sneaky, risky bitch who doesn’t give a shit about whether he gets in trouble for anything or not. Take it from someone who inherited thug-like behaviors from his dad.”

From the way I described it all to Ian, it seemed to have made sense. I don’t know how, though. What hell did he go through to understand our hell?

“Well, Mickey’s still young. He has time to learn from mistakes and stuff, right?” he asked me, flipping open one of the textbooks he had in front of him.

I snickered. “Young?” He looked at me, confused. “I mean, he’s literally a year older than me, but sure.” I reached over towards Mickey to tousle his hair, on-purposely annoying the shit out of him in the process. “The little guy’s learning, that’s for sure.” Ian laughed in response as he watched Mickey give me the stink eye.

Silence overtook the room as Ian and I started on Calculus homework. Mickey was headed back to the living room with Debbie when a thought came across my mind. So far, we weren’t really that comfortable with the Gallaghers, Mickey and I, but since they were the ones saving our asses from that hell hole where our dad was probably waiting for us, this would be the perfect time to warm up to them some more. I mean, we’re neighbors, after all. Not exactly next door ones, but it was something.

I nudged Ian in his arm to get his attention. “I have a book that teaches you American Sign Language, if you wanna borrow it. Maybe you could learn a few things if you want to understand Mickey better.”

“Really?” He seemed impressed, so I nodded. Ian turned towards me some more. “I only know the alphabet so far.”

“I’d give it about…” I took a moment to think. “Maybe a month to master more than two sentences.”

Ian inched an eyebrow on his forehead. “What, you don’t think I’m a fast learner?”

“I saw the industrial accident that almost happened in Chemistry today. I’m very observant.”

“Is that right?” Ian teased with a laugh.

“Damn straight.”

I like this kid already. He sounds like a trooper.

* * *

I retreated to my room after about an hour of working on Math assignments with Mandy. She and Debbie were downstairs watching some chick flick they found on one of the cable channels. They wanted me to join them, but I just stuck with taking a five-minute before starting on my History work.

I was almost halfway down the worksheet when I saw my bedroom door being opened. Mickey had came up from the living room. I assume that he was uninterested in whatever the hell was playing down there, so he came to sit on the bed beside me while I worked at the desk.

I watched him as he pulled out the same notebook he had from the other night in his black backpack, along with a red and black pen. He started writing on a fresh sheet of paper with the red pen before showing it to me. He had asked me, “why do you put up with this school shit for so long?” It sounded like a random question, but I guess he knew why I would rather turn down a movie for a History assignment.

I took the notebook, and he handed me the black pen to write with. So I wrote something back to him: “My grades are shit, especially Calculus. I just want this stuff out of the way.” I gave him the most honest answer I could because who the fuck would wanna be trapped with this work anyways?

Mickey shrugged when he saw my response and then started writing something else underneath what I wrote before handing the book back to me. “Sounds pretty fucking lame, but whatever.”

I snickered before writing back to him. “Lame, but it’s one step closer to getting me out of here for good.” I took a second to fill in one more answer on my worksheet before Mickey handed the notebook back to me.

“The fuck you want that’s not here?”

I wrote back. “To get out of Chicago and start my life.”

Mickey smirked before responding. “Ain’t this your fucking life?”

“Just the beginning. I plan to go to college out of the city.”

Mickey frowned before writing again. “Why, so you can sit through another four years in a goddamn classroom listening to boring lessons and shit like that?”

“It’s better than suffering through another four years in Chicago with nothing to live for.”

“Oh yeah? What are you trying to live for?”

Honestly, I’m not really sure what I wanted to live for. I pretty much blew any opportunities I had for the army, so that was off the table. Not a lot came to my mind when I thought about what I would be doing in the next ten years in my life. The very least I could do was become an athletic trainer or something. I was fit enough for it, and ROTC helped me train a bit. Other than that, my mind went blank.

So with that same unsure tone, I wrote back to Mickey before working a bit more on my History work. “I’m still working on that part,” was what all I said.

Mickey didn’t write anything back after that. He just leisurely looked around my bedroom as I continued to write. It wasn’t in the best shape, especially for guests to stop by and take a peek. Had I known that Mickey and Mandy were coming over here, though, and I would have cleaned the place up before they even stepped their feet inside the door.

My mind was focused on this assignment for the next fifteen minutes. I wanted this shit done. I hated being that one student in the class who completed their work fifteen minutes before their next class began. Somehow, that was always a habit I got into sometime in my sophomore year. The army was my motivation, though, and it broke me out of that habit so I could get my shit together.

Too bad that motivation’s no longer there. The army’s no longer a choice, so I have to live with whatever I was going to get.

It got a little too quiet for my taste. I turned around and noticed that Mickey was reading a magazine on my bed. It still felt strange to have him in the same room with me knowing that he was the same person that broke in before I even knew who the hell he was. How I was so calm with what was happening now, I’m not sure. Mickey seemed to be more comfortable here than the last time I saw him over here.

The notebook we both wrote in was on the bed by his feet. I grabbed it and the black pen that was sitting right next to it and wrote something else. “I’ll let you teach me sign language if you let me teach you Calculus.” It was a pretty lame follow up topic, especially since Mickey isn’t the type that would be interested in school work of any kind. Then again, if Mandy wasn’t there, I could refer back to someone who knew a little bit of this shit. Lip wasn’t going to be here once this school year ends since he’ll be off to college, so asking him for help, although logically possible, was off the table.

When Mickey read the sentence I wrote, he scoffed before writing something back. “Why the hell would I want to learn Calculus?”

“I’m still trying to figure out what you say to people,” I wrote back. “Mandy said she was willing to help me with this stuff, but I want you to teach me something, too, so I can return you a favor.”

Mickey wrote back and almost tossed the book my way. “Thanks, man, but I’ll pass.” Well, it was worth a shot. “But I could still teach you what I know.”

I cocked an eyebrow before writing back to him. “Fine then. Teach me something.”

Mickey briefly read my message back before he started motioning with his hands. The thumb and index finger on his right hand pressed against each other, pad against pad, and he held them up to his lips briefly before pretending to write something, his two fingers hovering over the palm of his left hand. When he finished signing, he flipped the page in the notebook and wrote something else. “That means pen.”

All of that means pen? It looked like a notebook to me, but I wasn’t the expert on that type of stuff. So I just imitated the movements Mickey made. Mickey brought his hand out to my left wrist and angled my hand a bit so the tips of my fingers were pointing downwards. Once I tried the sign again, he nodded. Looks like I was making progress.

I glanced up at him again, and his hands were opening and closing three times. Under the first word he wrote, he put “book.” That had to be the easiest sign so far. I didn’t waste any time signing _book_ before Mickey went on to the next word.

The palms of Mickey’s hands were gently pressed against each other as he used them as a little pillow for one side of his head to rest on. He told me that meant _bed_.  Then he angled his left hand down like he showed me earlier, angling his right hand in the opposite direction above his left, and then started rubbing both hands against each other. That one was _paper_. I was surprised as to how easy these words were.

Mickey stopped signing for a moment and looked at me. His lips pressed against each other as he continued. His right pinkie was up, and I did the same. Then he made somewhat of a fist, but the thumb was up against the index finger. I did the same. Finally, Mickey brought his thumb up under his index and middle finger, and I did as well. He took the notebook and wrote something before showing it to me.

Turns out he spelled my first name. “Ian.”

I couldn’t help it but smile. My name was fairly easy, but seeing Mickey sign it brought something giddy out of me. I had to sign my first name again, because I honestly couldn’t get over it.

I looked up at Mickey again. He signed what looked like the N in my name, but his thumb was under the ring finger as well. Then he did the I again, followed by the formation of the letter C with his entire hand. His two fingers were up, with his thumb placed between the two on his palm. Then his thumb lowered, with the other four fingers hovering over it. Finally, his thumb and pinkie finger were out while the other three fingers pressed against his palm.

Mickey then wrote his name on the paper underneath mine. “Mickey.”

I started to sign his name as he showed me. When it got to the letter K, Mickey adjusted my thumb so it was placed properly. Soon enough, I was able to sign his first name with ease. Mickey nodded at me with a smile.

I felt so accomplished right then and there.

* * *

Fiona came back home about an hour or two later. Lip, Debbie, Mandy, and I were already helping with dinner. When Fiona caught a glimpse of Mandy and Mickey in the kitchen, she looked taken by surprise. “Well, full house already?” she greeted, placing a bag of groceries on the floor by the counter.

Mandy greeted Fiona before grabbing the grocery bag. “Ian invited us over, if that’s okay.” And Fiona didn’t seem to have any indication of a rejection, from the look on her face as Mandy and Debbie helped unpack a box of cereal, some chicken, and some other vegetables. Even if Mickey and Mandy were both house guests, it still felt as if the whole family was there. It usually wasn’t this busy unless the holidays came around and Kev and Vee were coming from next door.

“We’re having the leftover mac and cheese, some greens, and some fish, if that’s okay with you, Fi.” Lip told our older sister as he took the mac and cheese out of the refrigerator. “Also, there’s no hot water.”

Fiona frowned, exhausted. This family always had an issue with the water bill. “Well, I think I earned enough between yesterday and today to get remotely close to how much we owe.” She walked over to the coat rack by the back door and hung her purse and sweater up.

“Carl’s teacher needs to see you. He got suspended.” Debbie blurted out, causing Carl at the table to whirl around and frown in her direction.

Carl was always getting in trouble. I don’t get it. He’s young and still growing up to do something amazing with his life, and already, he’s got this many detentions and whatnot at his school. I wasn’t the only one uneasy about this type of thing, though. It’s been going on for as long as we all could remember. Fiona got really sick of it, especially since she’s tied between a million other things already.

“What the hell did he do?” Mandy asked, leaving Lip, Debbie, and I by the food to sit beside Carl.

“Jammed some kid’s locker door into his head again.” Debbie casually responded as if it was not a big deal.

“Lunch money is critical.” Carl stated, slouching in his seat.

“I give you guys your lunches every morning, Carl.” Fiona scolded him. It wasn’t a good idea to get Fiona on her bad side, yet it seemed to happen at every given opportunity.

Carl shrugged. “Lunch money for the vending machine is critical.”

Fiona didn’t respond; she just sighed and rubbed her aching forehead with her left hand. I hated it when Fiona was under stress. She had to deal with us her entire life, in addition to the other shit she had to handle on her own.

The food was finally done, and Lip and I helped serve the table while Debbie placed the silverware and plates on the table. As they did so, Mandy and Carl began having a conversation about getting money from other kids without getting in trouble for it, earning a look from Fiona from afar. I started to laugh under my breath. The influences Carl had nowadays…

I was about to take a seat between Mickey and Debbie when I noticed Mickey trying to get his sister’s attention. Mandy took a break from conversing with Carl and noticed him signing again. Mandy didn’t speak this time; she signed back at him, and I was trying to figure out what the two of them where talking about. “Can we be excused for a minute?” Mandy didn’t even wait for an answer and just got up and walked towards the living room, with Mickey following behind her.

I tried not to focus too much on what Mickey and Mandy were probably talking about and ate some of my food. Debbie started up a table conversation of her own. “We’re going to the zoo for a science project we’re doing at school,” she began. “I got paired up with that mean girl who sits in front of the class. She frowns at me every time I sit next to her.”

“Why?” Carl asked, poking his fork into the mac and cheese.

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe she’s just jealous of you or something.” I was honest. Debbie was great, probably better than anything anyone could get out of any of her classes. Next to Lip, she was the main one in the household who seemed to be getting themselves prepared for the real world.

Fiona bit into some of the greens on her plate before turning towards Debbie. “Don’t pay attention to what that girl says, Debs,” she told her as sincerely as she could. “Just focus on your project. You’re gonna do great.”

There was always a life lesson to learn in the Gallagher household. I don’t know how Fiona managed to do it, but she always found a way to teach us something new within these walls. If not _teach_ us, she’ll remind us of what we already know. No hired official from any institution can or will teach as Fiona teaches.

When the conversation was about to shift, Mandy and Mickey came back into the kitchen. “Sorry, guys, but we have to go.” Mandy declared, and my stomach dropped immediately.

“Why?” I started, sadly.

“We’re needed back home.” Mandy began to walk to her seat at the table and grab her plate. Mickey did the same.

I rushed out of my seat and over to where Mandy was putting her food on a paper plate. “You’re seriously not going back to him, are you?” I asked, hushed so Fiona and the others wouldn’t be concerned if they overheard anything.

Mandy wrapped some aluminum foil on top of her plate of food. “Dad needs us at home, Ian. What do you expect me to do?”

“Blow it off? I mean, what the hell does he need you two at home for, just to fuck you both up?”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.” Mandy replied, whispering as Mickey had finished wrapping his food up. “We’re leaving. We’ll be back tomorrow, Ian. Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.”

I wanted to believe that so badly, but it didn’t sound like the two of them would be okay. If anything, it sounded like Mandy and Mickey were both going to get hurt again if they went home now. I wanted to do everything I could to keep them here, but I didn’t want to jeopardize what Mandy, Mickey, and I shared. They’re both my friends. At the same time, though, if I’m supposed to be their friends, then I’m supposed to defend and protect them, right?

Before I got a chance to say anything, Mandy and Mickey took their food out of the kitchen. “Later, Fiona! Later, guys!” Mandy shouted on her way out the door. Mickey waved at everyone including me before following Mandy out of the house.

I had a bad feeling about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to word the signs and stuff as clearly as I could, but if anyone is interested in what the signs look like, I just typed some words and stuff in the search box on this website: https://www.signingsavvy.com/.
> 
> Again, I hope you guys are enjoying it so far. :)


	7. Paranoid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mickey bit his lip after getting a good look at me. He was nervous and upset. That was no secret. If I had a fucking genie bottle or a wishing star in the sky, I would ask for a different father to tend to us so we don’t have to live in so much agony every day. Maybe then, we wouldn’t be going to bed with scars on our skin every week."

I hate proving to people that they’re right in times when I feel that I have dug myself into deep shit. I don’t depend on other people. Mom taught me that before she left us. Ian always had good intentions, I could tell. We haven’t seen him for that long, but I won’t stop believing that. Still, this was our fight. It’s our dad that Mickey and I have to face, not his. As much as I, too, don’t want to confess that, I have to. In a way, I’m protecting Ian of all of this bullshit we’re wrapped up in.

I glanced over at Mickey. His head was down as we walked all the way back to the house, his eyes bouncing from the sidewalk to the food in his hands and back. He and I, we were the same when it came to dependency. The only reason he’s dependent of me, despite that he’s older than me, is the fact that I’m the only one who can fully understand everything he wants to say. Dad could have a chance to do so as well – after all, it’s his fault that Mickey is deaf in the first place – but he chooses not to.

Sometimes when we leave the Gallagher home, I often notice the look on his face. It’s like he’s hurt because he either was having a good time with our new neighbors or is thinking about what would happen when we got back home to Dad. I know it’s the latter, but I know he’s thinking about the former as well. It’s a possibility.

I’m not sure how much time passed since we left the Gallagher house – I think the time went a little too fast for my taste – but we were already on the front porch of our house. Before I climbed the steps, I turned around and handed Mickey my plate of food. “Don’t let Dad see these. And when you get in the kitchen, put them in the fridge,” I told him, signing so he could understand me. He nodded.

I went up the steps and unlocked the front door with my keys, opening the door so Mickey could walk in carefully.

Dad wasn’t in the living room. I assume he was either out getting a drink or passed out in his room from having too many. Mickey had gone in the kitchen, but he only made it to the entryway of it when Dad came shuffling his feet out of the bathroom.

“The hell have you two been?” he grumbled, and I immediately got scared. Mickey did as well once he saw him enter the living room.

“At a friend’s house,” I told him as carefully as I could.

Dad looked at me and then Mickey, who was walking further in the kitchen to put our food away. Then he looked at me again. “Where the hell is my dinner?” he asked.

I gulped. I was the only one assigned to make dinner for the family. When Iggy came over to check on us, it wasn’t too bad. At least someone else was here to ease the tension. However, when it was just me, Mickey, and Dad, there was nothing but tension. Hell, none of us could share a story around the dinner table without someone eating out of fear or anger.

“The Gallaghers cooked that for us. Uh, I could, um –“

“And you didn’t bother to bring anything back for me?”

I started to scratch the back of my neck. “I thought you were gonna order out or something.”

“You’re speaking a hot load of bullshit. You know that, right?” Mickey was visibly scared shitless as he looked between me and Dad, but he looked ready to put up a fight, which was the last thing I wanted or expected out of him. “One of you are gonna start paying a fucking price here if I don’t see something served on my plate in ten minutes.”

I nervously looked over to Mickey, who was now giving me a sympathetic, sad look. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt again, but unfortunately, with the way things were going now, it didn’t look like that would happen. I had to do something before Dad got mad again. “I…I think there’s some spaghetti. I can cook that, if you want.” I nervously chuckled at Dad, although nothing about this situation was remotely funny.

I quickly walked passed him and looked through the cupboards for that box of spaghetti I saw earlier. As I searched around, I heard Dad trying to talk to Mickey again. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Dad reach into his pocket for an almost-empty box of cigarettes. “What the hell is this?” he questioned, making Mickey back away from him just a bit.

I looked at Mickey, and he gulped. He trembled as he started to sign something, but Dad slapped his hands down. “Did I fucking ask for all of that? What the utter fucking hell is this?” Dad angrily asked, pointing his finger inside of the box. Only three cigarettes were left in it.

“Dad,” I spoke from where I was in the kitchen, “you know Mickey can’t hear, right? He has to do that to –“

“What he _has_ to do is to keep his grubby fucking hands out of my stuff.” He looked at Mickey again and growled before holding the box back up at his face again. “I want another box in front of me stat. You got it, little fucker?”

Mickey was crumbling underneath Dad’s hands. I could see it. He’s never this visibly weak when he’s around other people. When Dad gives him orders like that, he’s as helpless as a deer that’s about to get hit with a bullet in the middle of nowhere. It’s sick. It honestly makes me feel sick that Dad even treats him like this.

I don’t know how, but I gathered the courage to suck up some breath and stand up for Mickey. “Aren’t you going to give him the money for them this time?” I asked.

Dad gave me a very devilish eye from where he stood. “None of your fucking business. Less talking, more cooking.”

“He almost got in trouble the last time he robbed a store for you.”

“What the fuck did I say?” I was so hurt that I didn’t realize that tears were fighting to come down my face right then and there. But I couldn’t cry; Dad hated pussies, as much as he probably knew that two of his kids were already a step ahead of him.

Mickey turned his head around and looked at me with sad eyes. It was only a second, though, because then he started to walk out of the kitchen and to his room. Before he got there, Dad started to speed walk as he followed him to his bedroom. “Hey!” he shouted just before he grabbed a black handgun from off the cabinet in the hallway and aimed it at Mickey’s head.

“Dad, don’t!” I cried, because I’ll be damned if Dad was actually going to shoot my brother right there in front of me.

Luckily, he didn’t pull the trigger; he just stood there with the device angled above his ear. Mickey froze for a moment before I saw him tremble again. It was the scariest fucking thing I saw since we moved into this house, and not one horror movie involving ghosts from past owners of haunted houses can tell me otherwise.

I could tell Mickey was scared, too. And honestly, I don’t blame him. None of this was his fucking fault to begin with, yet Dad is here treating him like a prisoner in his own home. I don’t think I could last a day in Mickey’s shoes. It’s hard enough being a deaf kid trying to get other people to understand what you’re saying, especially in certain given circumstances, but when you’re a deaf kid living with an abusive father who doesn’t understand what you’re trying to say? Now that’s just shit.

Dad had grabbed Mickey’s chin and turned his head around so Mickey could see him. He gulped. Even from a distance, I could see his eyes getting a little watery. “Listen here, you good-for-nothing asshole,” Dad began in a low growl, “you can have a tumor in your brain for all I fucking care, but if my cigarettes aren’t on the fucking table within the next hour, I’m blowing your fucking brains out.” Mickey, at one point, shut his eyes. That was when Dad squeezed at his neck and jolted him a bit so he would open them again. “Am I clear?”

Mickey’s lips began to separate as he looked Dad dead in the eye, and his eyes still continued to water. Dad had then taken the gun and brought up to Mickey’s forehead. “Cut the shit. No crying. You’re not a fucking whiney fag; you’re a damn Milkovich. And Milkoviches don’t fucking cry. Got it?”

I’m sure Mickey couldn’t hear what Dad was saying, but I saw him sniffle a bit, and something in him grabbed the courage to wipe away his current emotions from the physical features on his face. He gulped one more time and continued to stare, the tears somewhat ceasing in Dad’s favor.

Dad pushed Mickey when he let go of his neck, gun still aimed at his head. He pointed the gun in the direction of the front door and made him walk all the way there. He opened the door for Mickey, gun still aimed at him, prompting Mickey to leave the house. Mickey took one last look at me before leaving the house, with Dad shutting the door.

I couldn’t look Dad in the eye, so I just went back to preparing the spaghetti. I went in the fridge to look for some leftover burgers from the other night when Dad scared the shit out of me by turning me around with his hand on my shoulder. “Put his food in the microwave for me.”

“That’s Mickey’s food; he didn’t get a chance to eat.”

“He should have thought of that before he wanted to smoke all of my cigarettes.” He started to walk out of the kitchen again. “And hurry the fuck up; I’m starving.”

Once I heard his bedroom door shut, I rushed to the window of the living room and noticed Mickey still on the sidewalk. He sat on the pavement by the family car, with his elbows resting on his knees and the balls of his hands digging into his eyes. I wanted to go out there and comfort him, but I didn’t want Dad to pull the gun back out on him. Plus, I was preparing his food, and if he suspected something wrong, then he might do the same thing to me.

So I just returned to the kitchen, hoping something bad doesn’t happen to Mickey on his way to the store and back.

* * *

I couldn’t sleep. The thought of what was going on in the Milkovich house was still on my mind. What if Mickey and Mandy got home later than Mr. Milkovich wanted? What if Mandy dropped one of the plates on the floor in the kitchen? What if Mickey didn’t know that Mr. Milkovich wanted his next fix of whatever drugs he was on? What if they were getting punished for everything they tried to do at this very moment? What if they’re both seriously hurt?

I can’t wrap my head around the fact that this is their lives that they’re living. Neither Mickey nor Mandy deserve this type of treatment. If it were possible for Fiona to get custody of the two of them like she did with me, Lip, Debbie, Carl, and Liam, then shit, I want her to run all the way to the courthouse to make that happen. Anything so Mandy and Mickey were both safe.

“Long night?” I didn’t even know Lip was still up until I heard him address me.

I looked at him up on the top bunk above the desk area for a moment, but I wasn’t up for talking about it. But I had to talk about it to someone. I was just too fucking nervous about all of this. “Unfortunately,” was all I could say.

Lip got out of bed and made his way over to my bed, sitting on the edge by my feet and grabbing the liter and the box of cigarettes on my desk. “This isn’t about the new neighbors, is it?” he asked me before lighting one of the cigarettes in between his lips.

“How did you know?” I asked him.

“You left your phone on the desk, and I saw Mandy’s message while you were taking a shower.” Lip responded casually before taking the cigarette out of his mouth and handing it to me. I took it, sat up in my bed, and blew out a few smoke rings. “You’re a good man, you know that?”

I scoffed. “I don’t call letting Mandy and her brother go back to their shitty dad being a good man.”

“You’re encouraging them to do the right thing. That’s what matters, right?”

“If they actually take my advice, sure,” I replied. “I try every chance I get to tell Mandy to not do this, but it goes through one ear and out the other to her.” I handed the cigarette back to Lip and sighed in defeat. “What if they’re both hurt right now? What the fuck are they gonna do once they start running back over here to us?”

Lip blew out some smoke before handing the cigarette back to me. “Call the fucking cops? Tell Fiona? Kev and Vee? It’s not the Sahara Desert, Ian. You have people who can support you and those two so they’re safe. I’m not a fucking therapist, but I know when someone needs help.”

I nodded silently, but then I started to laugh. “Says the asshole who could give a shit about whichever girl he’s with.”

“Hey,” Lip said, offended, hitting me on the leg. I started to laugh. “I have a girlfriend, okay? The Chicago Fire didn’t start up again, I promise.”

“Sure. Let me know if I need to tell Fiona to get us plane tickets out of the city.”

Lip chortled. “No problem, man.”

I took one last blow of the cigarette and then placed it in the little ashtray on my nightstand and took Lip’s words into consideration. Even if Lip was an asshole, he was a smart one. He understood the situation with Mandy and Mickey, and I assume he knows how much I care about them as well. I don’t even wish that kind of stuff on my worst enemy. Like, how long have Mickey and Mandy been living that shit hole life? Since birth?

“Wanna know something?” Lip took me out of my thoughts for a moment, and I nodded. “Remember a while back when I told my girlfriend that I didn’t want to go to college?”

I laughed again, but this time, there wasn’t much effort put into it. “You literally flipped your shit when you found out she applied to Brown University for you.”

“Our GPAs differ greatly, so it was a surprise when she said that I actually got in when I didn’t even do shit to get in.”

“You could have taken the offer, you know?” I told him, because I was right. That was how smart Lip actually was. Instead, he decided to attend the University of Chicago since it was closer to home, and I doubt more than forty grand would be lying around the house for Lip to take for college expenses.

Lip’s eyebrow inched on his head. “Sure, if it wasn’t so far away from here.”

“But we talked about leaving the city to start our lives, remember?”

Lip shrugged. “Maybe for graduate school, but not now.” Well, he had a point. “Anyways, Tiffany told me that I was destined for great things, and I didn’t know it. I mean, the GPA is just a number, right? I didn’t know what the fuck I had going for my future. A senator? An inventor? Hell, a construction worker? She told me she didn’t care because she knew I would probably be good at whatever I chose.”

“And you are.”

Lip giggled. “Thanks, man.” And then he got back to the point. “What I’m trying to say here, Ian, is that you’re better than what you have. Mandy and Mickey should know that by now. Their father is shit, just like Frank is shit, but that doesn’t mean that they are too.” I nodded and noticed that he was looking back at me. “That goes for you, too, Ian.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, man.”

I was actually proud of Lip for taking his own advice and listening to his girlfriend’s advice. I know that he was getting his shit sorted out, and it felt good knowing that at least one of the Gallaghers was doing something that would guarantee the rest of their future. It gave me the courage to try once more with Mickey and Mandy. I didn’t even care if they would push me away again.

“Thanks Lip. I’m gonna talk to them again tomorrow.”

Lip nodded. “Oh, and uh,” he added, “the day I see that fuck face of a father they have, I’m gonna get the bat.”

I laughed. I wasn’t sure if it was possible that we would see Mr. Milkovich again. Well, I might; Lip might not want to go over there and deal with a monster of a father – unless he managed to find our house, which was one thing I didn’t want to happen.

“Sure thing.” I wanted him to use the bat so bad.

* * *

I stared at the ceiling above me most of the night. I was tired, though my eyes wanted to stay open. I don’t know. I guess I have a lot on my mind right now. All I could think about was what happened earlier when Dad had the gun in his hands. What if things didn’t go the way they did today, and Mickey’s brains were blown out on the spot? Would I jump in shock from the sound of the bullet ejecting from the device, or the sight of the bullet making its way to Mickey’s skull? Perhaps both at the same time. I’m not sure.

It was hard to go to sleep at night with these fucking thoughts in my mind. Mickey was in the other room sleeping, and Dad was probably out, too. Anything could happen if I were to go to bed right now. Mickey could get choked to death and I would barely be conscious enough to get up and rescue him. God knows how much I didn’t want that. I care too much about Mickey. He could act like a pretentious asshole like the rest of my brothers, and if the house were burning right now, I’d save him right then and there.

I was getting too paranoid right now, but I couldn’t help it. I had to check if he was okay.

With that, I slipped out of bed and walked into Mickey’s. Surprisingly, he was wide awake from the look of him laying against the pillow against his headboard. He noticed me walk in and sit beside him. “Can’t sleep?” I asked while signing. He nodded.

Words couldn’t describe how happy I was to know that he was at least okay. It might sound crazy coming from me, but this evening scared the shit out of me, and that wasn’t leaving my mind. Fuck Dad for being a violent bastard. Just – fuck him.

Mickey looked at me with concern and asked me, “are you okay?”

I nodded sympathetically. “I’m managing.” I signed back.

Mickey bit his lip after getting a good look at me. He was nervous and upset. That was no secret. If I had a fucking genie bottle or a wishing star in the sky, I would ask for a different father to tend to us so we don’t have to live in so much agony every day. Maybe then, we wouldn’t be going to bed with scars on our skin every week.

I felt Mickey’s hand connect with mine on my lap, and I glanced up at him again. I saw him attempt at swallowing the large lump in his throat, but it wasn’t going anywhere. He let go of my hand and signed, “please don’t leave me alone tomorrow. Please?”

I knew what he was talking about.

School was literally a five-day job for me. It was weird saying that, but someone in the Milkovich household had to make it out successfully, right? Dad never wanted Mickey to go to school in the first place, and that’s why he always stayed home when I left.

And that only meant that Mickey would be stuck here dealing with Dad’s shit while I’m at school trying to get an education.

I get it. I don’t want Mickey here by himself, either. At the same time, I couldn’t just stay here; I had to get my own life together as well. Some things need to be taken into careful use, and school was one of them. Maybe when I graduate from high school, Mickey and I could find an apartment near the campus. We’d be far away from Dad, and all of our problems would be gone in a flash.

But until then, I had to let Mickey down, and that wasn’t going to be easy.

So I started signing and speaking to him again. “Mickey, you know I can’t do that. I can’t risk this, or –“

Mickey looked so desperate as he signed back. His arms frantically moved as he signed, and the look on his face was just worse. His eyes started to look a bit red from holding back so many tears, and I could easily understand how upset he was.

I tried paying attention to what he was signing, but I couldn’t. I just closed my eyes and shook my head. “I’m sorry.”

Sure, my eyes were closed, but that didn’t stop me from hearing the sound of Mickey crying in front of me. I didn’t have to touch him to know that he was already trembling again. I couldn’t help myself but to open my eyes again. He was digging the balls of his hands into his eyes again. He always had a habit of doing that when he didn’t want anyone to see him crying like that. In his perspective, I understand; my _older_ brother not wanting me to leave him home to our shitty dad? Yeah, I get it.

But he didn’t have to be ashamed to cry around me. I would do the same if the tables were turned.

Feeling bad for what I told him, I started to grab his wrists so I could get a clear look at his face. His eyes were redder than before, and his face was soaked in tears, with more coming on their way. So I embraced him in a very tight hug. I took this as my opportunity to feel what Mickey was feeling: helplessness, fright, anger, tired, alone.

He wasn’t really alone; I was there for him when others weren’t. Still, we’re two newcomers in a Chicago neighborhood. Not a lot of people let others in on their personal problems, and we were a part of statistics that represented that fact.

I heard those stories about kids who were trapped in houses when their abusive mother or father went out to do whatever the fuck they wanted. Some of them took a shitty while to do something about it, and others had to wait for a goddamn miracle to fall in front of their very eyes. Mickey and I dealt with this shit for the longest time, and it continues on to this day. We could have been like those kids on Dr. Phil or whatever talking up to the point where we survived everything, but instead, we’re holding each other in my brother’s room, worried about what could happen tomorrow and the day after that.

I patted Mickey’s back a few more times, making sure he let out every emotion he bottled up inside, and then I let him go, my hands still bracing his shoulders. He looked like he wanted to cry again, and that was what was hurting me. As he wiped a tear away, I signed to him again.

“I know you don’t want me to do this, Mickey,” I spoke again, “but I need to do this for my sake and yours. Okay?” He sadly nodded, playing with the fabric on his bed sheets. “Text me if anything happens tomorrow. If you can, get out of there before he hits you and let me know where you are once you do.”

A tear started to fall from his right eye, but Mickey wiped it away and signed, “I promise.”

This was the only way I could physically protect him while I was at school. I’ll deal with the other details when I can. I just don’t want to see an open wound on Mickey’s body again.


	8. One, Two, Perhaps a Few

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Isn’t that what friendship was supposed to be about, making sure that the other is content and in control? If that’s the case, then why does Mandy keep blocking me out of her life? I have already gotten a glimpse of what her home life is like already, so it’s no secret, yet she’s acting like it’s covered underneath a thick, white sheet."

“Yeah Sean?” Fiona told her boss over the phone as she prepared our lunches in the kitchen. I was on feeding duty, and Liam was being a little bit squirmy with the oatmeal his big sister served for him. I wouldn’t blame him; Fiona’s cooking is usually great, but the way this looked didn’t really settle with my stomach. “I’m going to be a little late today. I’m sorry if this was a late call. I have to run up to my brother’s school and talk with the disciplinarian about his suspension.”

I glanced over at Carl for a moment; he was using one of the three-pound weights he found in our room to work out with. His shirt was still hanging on the back of his chair after Fiona told him twenty thousand times to put it on. I think he saw me working out the other day and wanted to try it.

“I called Tanya before I called you,” Fiona continued on, bagging my lunch and placing it next to me on the table. She slapped Carl on his bare arm and whispered, “dressed. Now.” And he reluctantly did before Fiona returned to Sean on the phone. “Thank you so much. I’m gonna be at the diner when all of this is handled.” She nodded to the man on the other end. “Okay, goodbye.”

Liam had oatmeal all over his face by the time Fiona was off the phone. His tiny hands had touched his face before reaching out to me. As cute as I knew he was, I couldn’t leave the house with food all over me; so I just took the napkin from the table to wipe his face off.

“Debbie, breakfast! We gotta get a move-on!” Fiona called before bagging her lunch for her.

I stole a glance from Carl for a moment before turning back to Fiona. “So he’s just gonna stay here all day?”

“Hopefully, Sheila can take watch of him while she watches Liam,” Fiona responded. “If not, Vee is next door.”

“Why can’t I stay here?” Carl moaned. “Debbie got to stay here that one time when she almost flooded the bathtub, remember?”

Fiona inched an eyebrow on her forehead. “Debbie was only four, and Vee was over here looking after her for me when I took you to the doctor’s office.” She came over to pat Carl on his shoulder blade. “You’ll survive. Now come on. I don’t want anyone being late today.”

“I’m not going to school.”

“But _I_ still have work.”

Fiona had noticed Liam and me when the conversation between her and Carl had ended. She took the kid out of his seat and helped him clean up a bit, and I went to grab my backpack for school. When Debbie, followed by Lip, had came downstairs, all of the Gallaghers proceeded out of the door. Fiona took Liam and Carl and walked the opposite direction towards Sheila’s house to drop off Liam. Lip led Debbie and I to school. On the way there, I could see Mandy walking on her own.

“Isn’t that Mandy Milkovich?” Debbie asked me after I took notice of her. “Where’s her brother?”

“No idea.”

I wondered the same thing. I remember Mandy saying something about the Milkovich father not wanting to get Mickey an education, so Mickey was most likely at home, if not anywhere else. That’s what made my blood boil, knowing that Mickey was still back there with him.

And Mandy? Well, she walked up to us as if there wasn’t an issue in the world. Knowing her, though, there probably was one. Or two. Perhaps a few. “What’s up, Gallaghers?” she greeted us.

I brought my arm around Mandy’s back. “Hey, you’re early.”

Mandy chuckled. “Didn’t believe me or something, Ian?” She teased.

“It’s a change from the last two times you told the teacher that you overslept.” She flipped me off, and I laughed at her.

I thought that the morning shouldn’t start off with so much tension, so I never questioned Mandy about what Mickey was up to right now. We just shared a four-way conversation with Lip and Debbie before the latter separated from us to meet with some of her friends. When we made it up to the school, Lip had already went up to the third floor for his first class, leaving us to converse at the lockers by ourselves.

“I’m serious; dip it into some ranch dressing. It tastes better than you think.” Mandy told me after we randomly started talking about pizza.

I smirked. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, it’s delicious.”

“And I thought I was weird.”

Mandy glared at me, and I laughed again. “It’s only been two days, Gallagher. Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“You’d be surprised at how many times I’ve done that before you came along.”

Well, if she knew what I meant.

Mandy rolled her eyes at me before reaching up towards the top shelf of her locker. When she grabbed a dark lip stick from her locker basket, she heard her phone vibrate. She glanced at her phone screen before some of the color in her face was washed away.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her when I realized she wasn’t responding.

She looked at me, almost distracted, and shook her head. “It’s nothing. I thought I forgot something at home.” I knew that was a lie. It was probably Mandy’s dad telling her that she left an empty plate on the table for him or something stupid and unfair like that. She noticed that I was distracted and decided to change the topic. “You do any notes for the test coming up?”

I frowned at her. “We didn’t have to take notes; just read the book.”

“Yeah, but when she says ‘just read the book,’ she doesn’t really expect anyone to pass this shit. Teachers always do that kind of stuff. They think you got it down until the test is placed on your desk in front of you, and you start shitting your pants until the class period ends.”

I laughed in response because I realized she was right all along.

We walked to our first class together. Mandy kept checking her phone for any new text messages, and my concern started to come back. I could have sworn I saw Mickey’s name on her phone screen as we walked to class, but I wasn’t certain because Mandy eventually caught on to me staring at something on her, and I just looked in another direction.

Mandy and I usually sat in the back of the class when we had tests. Our teacher, Mrs. Roland, never really paid much attention to our system when we took tests in her class. Mrs. Roland does this thing where she gives us tests in different orders, each one marked with a letter A, B, C, or D. I got C for today’s test, and Mandy had Test A. Despite the fact that our tests were different, that didn’t stop us from helping each other out.

I was on the tenth question on my test when I heard Mandy’s phone buzz. It wasn’t loud or anything, but I ultimately froze knowing that the other students, and eventually Mrs. Roland, would find out. Fortunately, only the one guy in front of us with the braids in his head noticed, but he wasn’t dumb enough to snitch or anything.

Mandy checked her phone, and from the look on her face, something was up. She bit her lip as she responded to the text message. Something must have happened to Mickey. If not that, then I’m not really sure what the hell else.

I got a sudden text from Mandy when I realized that I was stuck in my own mind. I opened my message and read it: “ _Hey asshole, what’s an oxymoron?_ ” And that’s when it continued, the distractedness. Hopefully I gave Mandy the right answer when I scanned through the answer choices on my sheet, because between the look on Mandy’s face when she responded to the text message and Mickey at home probably suffering, my mind wasn’t in the right place.

A few class periods later, I was scanning through the sea of students to find Mandy again. It was supposed to be our lunch period, and we typically met by the vending machines so we could buy chips and Snickers and carry on with whatever typical gossip she had up her sleeve.

I was at the vending machine, but Mandy wasn’t there. I was starting to get nervous, because this wasn’t like her. We always followed the same routine.

Ten minutes passed, and I just went and bought two Snickers and some hot Cheetos, walking to the lunch room alone and hoping that Mandy would come along sooner or later.

* * *

Ian was waiting on me. I knew it. He’s been on my case since he found out about our dad. But since Mickey and I agreed to use this system of communication to make sure he was safe, I couldn’t get my head out of the fact that Mickey’s probably hurt at home or something.

I know Ian thought the same thing, but I didn’t want to hear it aloud. Not just yet.

Before lunch, I received a text from Mickey telling me that Dad was upset. I wasn’t sure what it was about, so I tried messaging him again. However, I didn’t get anything back, which was worrying the fuck out of me. I couldn’t let this slip from my vision, so I took this conversation to the bathroom. It didn’t have the best Wi-Fi signal, but it’s better off this way. No one could know about what Mickey and I were talking about. Not even Ian. It wasn’t safe.

My brother sent a message once I walked in. He wrote, “I’m hurt, but I made it out in time.” I sent him a message back asking him what happened and to head on over to the Gallagher residence, hoping that Fiona or somebody would be there to protect him.

Five minutes later, I received about three messages from Mickey. Apparently, Dad was up to his usual runs, and he wanted Mickey to keep guard just in case the cops were out looking for them. I wasn’t sure how it made sense to carry out this type of shit in broad daylight, but that’s besides the point. It wasn’t until a cognito cop had caught onto them, according to Mickey, that they ended up leaving the drugs and the cash wherever they could so they could get out.

Moments after that, Dad was shouting slurs and stuff at Mickey, thereby choking him before Mickey had the chance to shove him off and run. I was at least proud of my big brother for making it out okay, so that was a start.

But then the last message had stated that no one was currently at the Gallagher household. I assume that he’s already there waiting for someone to return.

He couldn’t just stay over there. Dad could be looking out for him, and that only meant that Mickey would be in deeper shit. At the same time, he had to hide out somewhere, and standing in front of the Gallaghers’ front porch wasn’t helping.

So I texted him saying that he should try getting through the yard and hiding out underneath the porch steps in the backyard. It was the only solution I could come up with. Besides Fiona, Ian, and the other Gallaghers, Mickey and I didn’t know anyone else in the neighborhood that we could trust. Mickey would just have to wait until Fiona got back.

Once Mickey made it there, I told him to keep there and don’t move until I made it to the Gallagher residence. That was when I hung my phone up and scouted the halls to find Ian again.

* * *

Lunch time was halfway over, and Mandy finally showed up with her lunch in one hand and her backpack strap in the other. “About damn time.” I greeted her, tossing my hands up carelessly.

Mandy appeared offended. “Gosh, can’t a girl handle her business in peace?” she asked once she took a seat in front of me at the table.

“No.” Before I had a chance to continue, Mandy’s eyebrows shot up so high that they didn’t even look like her real eyebrows anymore; they reminded me of those of a cartoon character of some sorts. I smirked at her. “If it’s gonna cost quality time with her new best friend, then we just might have a problem or two.”

“Oh, so you’re suddenly my new best friend now?” Mandy challenge, licking her bottom lip at me.

“I’m the only one here you talk to on a daily basis.”

Mandy rested her chin on her left hand. “You don’t know who else I talk to, Mr. Gallagher.”

“I don’t?” I challenged back, a smile evident on my face.

“My status in this school may have went up by thirty percent after I became the next female ass kicker following this so-called Taylor McGuire.”

My eyebrows shot up and I immediately held my hands up in surrender. “If that’s true, then I definitely shouldn’t be fucking around with you then, should I?”

“I would watch my back if I were you,” Mandy teased back, and we both started laughing together before I gave her one of the Snickers I had in my backpack. We started to eat our lunches – well, _Mandy_ started; I was halfway done already – before Mandy started to pull her phone out again. “Ian, question.”

“Shoot.”

“When does Fiona get off work?”

It was an odd question at the time. So when she asked it, I didn’t know what to answer with. I shrugged. “It depends on how much we need for bills and food.” I paused. “Why do you ask?”

Mandy shrugged as she typed a message on her phone. “Just wondering if I could crash at your place after school today.”

“You know you’re always welcome over, right? Whether Fiona is there or not.”

“Are you sure? I’m not annoying her?”

“Hell no.”

She didn’t say anything after that, and I was starting to hint at the fact that it probably wasn’t safe for her, or even Mickey, for that matter, to return home today. It must have been a hunch or something, but Mandy isn’t just texting someone just for the hell of it. Mickey was involved somehow, and I wanted – no, _needed_ – to find out what and why.

I couldn’t take it anymore. It kind of just slipped out at that very moment. “How’s Mickey?”

Mandy shrugged. “Most likely drunk and bored, if anything.”

“You sure he’s fine?”

“No shit, he’s fine.” Mandy blurted out, which took me back a little. “God, Ian, what’s gotten into your cereal to suddenly show so much concern for my brother? If you wanted to fuck him, you could have just told me.”

The fact that she had gotten that out of my concern was fucking hilarious. I had no intentions into making this a conversation about me caring for Mickey or anything like that. Besides, I don’t even know if Mickey’s even gay or not. If the first time I saw him gave any indications, then hell, rain drizzles will fucking turn into rain showers.

“That’s not what this was about at all.” I could feel myself blushing. Mandy probably thought I was lying.

“Then what is it about then?”

I gulped the ball that had been stuck in my throat for the past five minutes and got straight to the point. “I’m just checking to see if you two are safe from…” I don’t know why it wasn’t coming out the way I wanted to, but it just wasn’t.

Mandy sighed reluctantly before placing her phone down and folding her hands in front of me. “You don’t have to worry about us, Ian, if that’s what you were thinking.”

That was exactly what I was thinking.

“But I am.”

“For what purpose?”

“The purpose that your father is a psychotic fucking prick. What other purpose do you want me to give here?”

Mandy started playing around with the now empty Snickers wrapper in front of her. “We’ve been living with that man for as long as we both could remember, okay? If we weren’t okay with all of this, then we would have been begging for help at age ten. But we’re fine. We’re both fine.”

“Not if he’s getting drunk half the time and strangling you both to death. Had one of you been asthmatic, and you would have been dead before I got the chance to meet any of you. It’s bad enough that Mickey is deaf to begin with –“

Mandy held defensive hands up before me. “Okay, you’re making this bigger than it needs to be.”

“Then why can’t you just trust me on this and let me help you?”

“Because I don’t need any fucking help! Okay?” Her voice had gotten so loud; almost half of the people on our side of the lunch room had turned around to see us arguing back and forth.

I don’t like arguing with her. This was supposed to be our time together. We’d talk about the new gym substitute and how he barely pays attention to shit we’re up to. We’d bitch and moan about the girl or guy who would wanna put up a fight with either one of us. We’d laugh and share stories about one of us shitting our pants over a rat that broke in the house or something.

We were supposed to share fun moments together. Not all of this.

Isn’t that what friendship was supposed to be about, making sure that the other is content and in control? If that’s the case, then why does Mandy keep blocking me out of her life? I have already gotten a glimpse of what her home life is like already, so it’s no secret, yet she’s acting like it’s covered underneath a thick, white sheet.

Mandy began packing some of her stuff and stood up. “I don’t have time for this. I’m leaving.”

“Mandy, wait!”

But before I had a chance to say anything to her, she was already gone.

* * *

I had been sitting out on the Gallagher porch ever since I left the school earlier that day. Ian pissed me off so much, and I couldn’t stand looking at his face for the rest of the day. I wasn’t even up for going to my other classes when I was this stressed out, so I ditched.

It’s the first time I ditched since I came to this school. I should feel bad about it, but then again, I feel bad for a lot of things that are happening to my life at this very moment.

I saw Fiona walk over to the gate when she noticed me. “Mandy?” she asked, confused. “Hey, I thought you were at school.”

I shrugged. “Something came up.”

Well, that was the short version of my situation, but I didn’t need another Gallagher walking in on my business or anything like that.

Fiona unlocked her front door and invited me in. I just threw my stuff on the floor next to the couch and took a seat. “If you want anything, I can prepare you something.”

“No, it’s okay. I have homework to do.” It was the most polite answer I could possibly give.

A few moments passed as I was reading one of the books we were assigned for my English class when someone knocked on the front door. Fiona insisted on answering it just in case it was the cable man or the guy who took care of the water bills for the house.

However, neither arrived at the door. Mickey then appeared, walking further into the living room until he saw me. “What’s he doing here?” Fiona asked, still confused. I shrugged, but I greeted Mickey with a hug anyway. I noticed that he had some faintly red hand marks on his neck, and he looked pissed as hell, if anything.

I signed to him. “You okay?” I asked, and he just nodded. He stood there for a few moments before signing something about heading upstairs to the bathroom. Once he was gone, I continued to read.

“Does Ian know you’re over here, Mandy?” Fiona asked as she came in the room with a glass of lemonade for me.

Once she placed it on the coffee table, I shook my head. “I didn’t see him too much today.”

Fiona took a seat beside me. “Why? Something happen between you two?” I don’t know how she caught on so quickly, but she did, and my gut was wrenching like a motherfucker.

I almost gave her the best answer I could think of when I heard a noise upstairs. It sounded like someone was kicking one of the doors of the house. Fiona and I had gone upstairs to investigate only to realize that it was coming from the bathroom door.

I think Mickey’s upset, and that this visit isn’t going to go so well.

“Mickey?” Fiona called, placing a gentle hand on the door. She jumped a bit when Mickey’s foot collided with the door again. Some heavy, angry grunts were heard outside the bathroom door.

I didn’t like it when Mickey got this mad. This was usually one of his coping skills, if not drinking alcohol. If he was acting like a raging bull right then and there, then this was probably a situation that was most likely a little difficult to deal with.

“Hold on. I’ll get him.” I whispered to Fiona before banging on the bathroom door, hoping Mickey would see the wood shake a bit. “Mick, come on out!”

The kicking and grunting had stopped, and Mickey slowly opened the bathroom door just a crack. I opened it up the rest of the way before recognizing that Mickey’s eyes were red again. His knuckles were white, and sweat was rolling down his face from his hair line.

Carefully, I signed to him. “Mick, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

His head was kept down, staring at the tiles on the bathroom floor. One of his hands reached under his shirt as he sniffled, his lips trembling, before grasping his fingers onto something physical that had been hiding in his pants.

And that’s when Dad’s gun appeared into view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (late) Fourth of July, to my fellow American readers!


	9. Guiding Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He just looked at me with scared, angry, and tired eyes. He looked like he didn’t want to fight this out anymore. Hell, I didn’t want to, either, but this wasn’t the way out."

No one was their usual self anymore. Hell, even Fiona lost some color in her skin the moment she saw Mickey pull the gun out from his clothes.

“M-Mickey?” I stammered. I was so fucking nervous. It was very rare for Mickey to hold a gun and be in this state of mind. The way his skin whitened, the way his eyes swelled, the way he sweat – it made him a completely different person. If he were to hold out a gun at any other time, he would probably aim it at material things like bricks or trees for leisure activity.

This, however, didn’t fit the exact definition of _leisure_ that I was thinking of.

Fiona looked as if her heart could rip out of her chest at any moment. “What’s he doing with that?” she whispered to me, her eyes stuck on my brother.

I had no fucking idea, but I had a feeling that this felt a little familiar.

I gulped, holding my hands out to him. “Mickey…give me the gun.” I quickly signed so he would get the point. However, he didn’t make a move to hand the gun over; he just aimed the end of the gun inside his mouth.

Fiona screamed, and I felt that I should, too. Then again, Mickey wasn’t going to be able to hear it. I signed to him again.

“Mickey, don’t!” My arms were moving frantically as I watched Mickey just standing there, his sweat going cold on his skin.

He just looked at me with scared, angry, and tired eyes. He looked like he didn’t want to fight this out anymore. Hell, I didn’t want to, either, but this wasn’t the way out.

“Put the gun down, Mickey.” I signed to him one more time. Mickey’s breaths became short and fast, but then they slowed down a bit as he took the gun out of his mouth.

Once it was far away from his face as possible, I snatched the weapon out of his hands and placed it on the closed toilet seat. I grabbed him for good measure. He was shaking violently, and I had to wrap my arms tightly around his arms to make sure he didn’t lose control again. Some of the sweat hadn’t dried in the area where his hair line was, but for the most part, he cooled down a bit.

My eyes shot to Fiona, who was running a hand through her brunette hair in relief. It was obvious that she was scared by the whole situation. I couldn’t blame her. “One of you make sense of this.” She finally spoke. I was silent for a moment, trying to figure out if all of this was a dream or not still. “Why did Mickey bring a gun in my house?” Fiona tried again but more furiously.

“Fiona,” I started, nearly panicking on the inside, “I didn’t know he was going to do this –“

“Then ask him then.” Fiona interrupted, folding her arms in front of her chest. “I want an explanation from him about where all of this came from.”

I had to close my eyes for a brief moment to collect myself. Too much was happening today, and I couldn’t handle it all. First the fight between me and Ian at lunch, and now my brother’s attempted suicide. I would have asked God then and there what would happen next, but I didn’t want to jinx anything.

Mickey was still shaking a bit, but not as much as when I first held him. I turned him towards me so we were looking at each other face to face. I signed, “tell Fiona what happened, Mick.” And, after a brief moment of nervously looking between me and Fiona, he started signing again. As he did, I recited his thoughts to Fiona vocally.

“Mickey had gotten into a little, um, situation with Dad earlier before coming over here,” I began slowly, and Mickey continued to sign. “Dad was doing one of his runs and started blaming Mickey for it ending on a bad note, and that’s when Dad started to physically hurt him.” The changes in faces Fiona made were frightening, but I managed to continue on. “And before Mickey left the house, he took one of Dad’s handheld guns out of the house. Coincidentally, it was the same one that Dad held to his head when he threatened him to go out and buy cigarettes after realizing that Mickey took some out of the box.”

Fiona’s eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. “What?”

“And the fucked up thing is that Dad never gave Mickey any money for the cigarettes, so Mickey was literally forced to go rob the convenience store instead.”

I didn’t see the point in telling Fiona all of this information if she was processing it this way. No one needed to know what the fuck was going on in our shitty household. That was the reason why I couldn’t tell Ian all of this. However, now that Fiona knows all of this, she was bound to letting Ian know eventually. I was actually scared to watch Ian respond to all of this.

“And Mickey thought bringing the gun here was the solution?” Fiona asked incredulously.

I gulped again, bombs nearly dropping in my damn stomach at the thought of Mickey with the gun. “I’m not sure,” I started, looking over at Mickey for a moment and then Fiona, “but…I think Mickey intended to kill himself since…” I stopped for a moment, noticing the sad expression on Fiona’s face. “You know, since Dad didn’t get the chance to.”

At the thought of my brother’s suicide attempt, I immediately turned to him and noticed that he was reaching for Dad’s gun once again. I shoved him away from the gun, grabbing both of his wrists and turning his face towards me. “Leave the fucking gun alone!” I hissed.

I’ll admit it; it sounded as if I was livid than anything else, but I couldn’t help it. Mickey’s my brother, and we kept each other intact. Without him, I would just be another scared, helpless girl with so much shit in the world that a body scrub couldn’t get rid of.

Mickey was heavy breathing again. I think I was scaring him with the tight grip I had on his wrists, but he did seem taken aback, regardless. His eyes were still red, and they were getting wet once he saw me yelling at him. I didn’t want to do it, but I didn’t have any other choice.

“Bring him out here,” Fiona instructed me, and I moved Mickey towards the door, keeping a strong grip onto his shoulders. Fiona took his arms and put him against the wall so he wouldn’t move. I left the bathroom, keeping the gun on the bathroom seat, and watched as Fiona tried getting Mickey to sit down on the floor.

Mickey was broken. It didn’t take a fucking scientist to realize that. I don’t like seeing him about to shatter like this. What convinced him to think about taking his own life, I wasn’t really sure. But I’ll be damned if he left me in this cruel fucking world with that damn man running around like he invented everything in existence. I didn’t want to admit this to myself, but it’s true; if he goes down, then I go down with him.

I hugged myself and leaned against the opposite wall, watching as Fiona was rubbing soft circles on Mickey’s back. His lips trembled and his right arm and leg were violently shaking again. He was looking in every direction that wasn’t in mine or Fiona’s, swallowing the lump that did nothing to him but swelled up his throat.

Fiona spoke in a motherly tone, trying to look into Mickey’s eyes. “Mickey? Are you alright?” she asked while I signed her words. Mickey didn’t respond; he just looked ahead at something on the floor in front of him. “Do you want to talk to us about it?” Fiona asked, and I signed again. Still, nothing.

Mickey’s eyes averted to something in the far distance on his right side, and I could tell that he was trying to hold in his tears. The way his right hand was covering his mouth said it all to me. Fiona continued rubbing circles on his back, and that’s when one of Mickey’s hands reached up to wipe the corner of his left eye. However, that didn’t seem like enough to calm him down. He clutched his knees with his arms and lowered his head, hiding his face as he started crying.

I bit the inside of my cheek and watched as Mickey’s body violently trembled again. Fiona had paused her back rubbing for a brief moment and sighed. She never left Mickey’s side, though, for she started patting Mickey’s back softly in an attempt to comfort him. “Okay, sweetie. Okay,” Fiona responded quietly, watching my brother’s depressed form.

No matter how many times I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, it just wouldn’t go away. I couldn’t fucking take it anymore. “Fiona, I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over him. I just –“

“No.” Fiona spoke firmly, turning towards me. “Don’t be sorry. This isn’t yours or Mickey’s fault that you both ended up being treated like this. You don’t have shit to apologize for.”

She had a point. I mean, we had no control over what our dad was feeling about whatever we did; he just let that happen on his own.

“But I want that gun out of this house.” Fiona continued, looking me dead in the eye as she pointed to the bathroom door.

The Gallaghers weren’t like us. They had different ways of defending themselves from other people. Whether it be their fists, a bat, or a frying pan, I wasn’t exactly sure. Since they were more family-oriented, and the fact that they had a fucking toddler in the mix, I guess guns were some type of restriction in the Gallagher household.

Our dad was never like that when we were babies. I remember when I was about eleven years old, and we were to put up the Christmas tree. Iggy, Jamie, and I had gone to the basement of our old house, and while Iggy and Jamie carried the box containing the artificial Christmas tree, I had noticed a box labeled _Confidential_. Only thing: it wasn’t a stack of file folders like I predicted; there were guns of each brand one could think of. The only time Dad would use them is when he and my older brothers, sans Mickey and sometimes Iggy, would go out on a run or something without us. He claimed it to be serious business, which was probably why Mickey and I were left by ourselves with maybe Iggy watching us.

Normal families didn’t have a shit ton of guns in their house like Dad did. I barely remember what it’s like to live in a normal household, for Mom didn’t stick around with us for that long, and Dad was always a prick. The Gallagher clan wasn’t exactly the normal, average American family, either, but they were somewhat close to it, and that’s why I think Fiona’s acting this way towards the gun. She doesn’t want her siblings going through the trauma Mickey and I did, and honestly, I don’t, either.

“I was lucky enough that Carl and Liam are still over at Sheila’s house, and that Debbie was in school,” Fiona continued, her chest heaving. “I can’t have my family witnessing this type of stuff, let alone my younger brothers and sister. I just can’t.”

I nodded firmly. “I understand.”

Fiona took a deep breath. “I can’t believe you two are living like this. What the hell was your dad thinking?” She sounded as pissed as I probably would have been, if the roles were reversed.

I’m not sure how it managed to get out of my mouth, but it did. “Dad has more guns.” Fiona froze. “I don’t know where he put them now, but I know he has enough for the whole fucking army force.” And that’s when I realized something. My eyes had went back to Mickey, who still kept his face hidden from the two of us, and then I turned back to Fiona. “If Dad finds out that this is missing, he won’t hesitate to getting another one. I saw his stash; there’s a lot.”

Fiona, very shocked at the news I gave her, covered her mouth with her hand and then started to pinch the bridge of her nose. We were in deep shit, and Fiona is in on this now.

Silence overcame the both of us, with Mickey’s sniffles being the only things that were heard between us. Fiona was deep in thought, her leg bouncing in the process. She smacked her leg and then directed her attention back to me. “I need you to find a place to hide this thing,” she declared, “but not in the house. I don’t want the kids seeing this when they get back over here, got it?”

I nodded. “Got it.”

“Okay.” She replied in relief before turning back to my brother. He barely moved since he started crying there on the floor, and I was starting to get a little worried. “I’m gonna go pick up Carl and Liam in a couple of minutes, but we gotta get Mickey to calm down a bit first. He can rest in the boys’ room, and when he’s a little better, I can fix him something to eat.”

It was my turn to sigh in relief. It felt as if a giant weight has been lifted off my shoulders. This was probably what it felt like to breath. “Thank you, Fiona.”

We both turned in Mickey’s direction, and I crawled over to him, shaking his arm a bit to grab his attention. When Mickey lifted his head, his entire face was flooded with tears, and his eyes were still a bit red, though they seemed to have faded just a little.

“I’ll go get him a cold rag,” Fiona stated, standing up and making her way back to the bathroom. “Put him on Ian’s bed.”

As Fiona left, I guided Mickey back on his feet. His legs were shaking when he finally stood up, but I made sure that he didn’t fall or anything. With a hand on his back, I led him into the boys’ room, indicated by the yellow tape that was surrounded around the door. Once we were inside, I helped Mickey into the bed that was aligned against the wall with the window.

Fiona came in the room moments later with a cold rag and a glass of water for Mickey. When he had his back against the mattress, Fiona carefully put the rag on his forehead, and I watched as Mickey flinched at the touch. Fiona then handed him a tissue from the tissue box on the dresser, and Mickey made the least bit of effort to wipe his face off before setting the tissue down by his side. He hugged his arms, his fingers digging deep into his skin.

Once the rag was secure on his head, Mickey slightly rolled to one side, facing the wall, and his eyes slowly closed shut. Before Fiona and I left the room, I gave him a kiss on his cheek as he drifted off to sleep. Fiona left the glass of water on Ian’s night stand, and we both walked out of the room.

“Fiona,” I spoke nervously as we made it back in the hallway, making sure the door was slightly open in case anything happened, “can you please not tell Ian about all of this?”

The eldest Gallagher sister frowned at me. “Why?”

“I don’t want him getting worked up over it, is all,” I explained. “He kept asking about this kind of stuff since he found out about us, and –“

“You guys are friends. You don’t want Ian to worry at least a little?” Fiona asked, perplexed.

“I’m not saying that worrying is a bad thing,” I explained, “but…I just – I don’t want him getting involved in anything that’s out of his control. I don’t want to see him getting hurt by fighting this.” Fiona paused, nodding as she tried to understand what I meant. “I don’t think I got it across to him the way I wanted.”

That was an understatement; I literally fucked everything up with Ian. He’s probably steaming in class right now or something because of me.

Or maybe I’m just over analyzing this.

“Okay, Mandy, but Ian will find out about this eventually.” Fiona warned me. “When he does, I want you to be the one to explain it to him, because no one else can. Alright?”

That was gonna be hard to do, but I was willing to do anything to help this situation. “Okay.”

* * *

School was shit for the rest of the day, especially since Mandy didn’t go to any of her other classes. I was starting to get worried about her. It was my fault that she left in the first place, and I could only imagine where she had gone. Hopefully not to her dad’s place, or else she would have gotten a busted lip and a broken limb.

“Hey man, you okay?” I didn’t realize Lip was there until I was startled out of my own thoughts. He took a liter out of his pocket and pulled out a half-empty box of cigarettes, taking a cigarette and putting it in his mouth.

When Lip took the first puff, he dragged it out to me and I took a smoke. “I tried following your advice.”

“With Mandy?” I nodded. “And what happened?”

I started rethinking my thoughts as the events from lunch today. “Well, I was leading up to it,” I explained. “You know, the whole _being better than what you have_ thing?” Lip nodded. “I wanted to tell her something like that, but we got in an argument at lunch today.”

“What about?” Lip asked, taking the cigarette back and putting it in between his lips.

“I just wanted her to trust me with what was going on between her and her dad, but she told me that she didn’t want any help from me,” I told him, and I started kicking a stray rock off the sidewalk and into the street. “But the thing is, I want her to get help. Mickey and Mandy are both in danger, and aside from Fiona and I, they don’t have anyone else.”

Lip nodded, blowing out a few smoke rings. “So what you’re saying is that they don’t have me, either?” He teased, and I giggled.

“You’re helping them, too?”

“I wouldn’t be saying all of this shit for my personal health, Ian.”

He had a point.

“Right.” I laughed, and we were silent for the rest of the walk back over to our house, where we noticed that Debbie had gotten there before us. “Yo Debbie!” Lip called as we made it to the stairs. “You guys got out early?”

“Class trip, remember?” Debbie reminded him before opening the door with her key. “We came back to the school literally five minutes before the final bell of the day rang, so we were released early.”

“Sounds like fun,” I added. I almost started missing elementary school because of that.

Lip, Debbie, and I walked through the living room. Debbie had gone upstairs to put her supplies away, and Lip joined me and Fiona in the kitchen. “How was school?” Fiona asked us while she checked the fridge for something for us to eat for dinner.

“Remind me to ask you to never ask that question again in life.” I teased with a chuckle. Not just because it was true in general, but because I was still nervous about whether Mandy was still mad at me or not. So when I chuckled just then, it wasn’t as light-hearted as I expected it to be.

Lip laughed at my comment and nodded in agreement. “Wait until you get to college; it gets worse.”

“But you’re going to college.”

“I was lucky that I barely made it in.”

I smirked for a moment before I took out my copy of _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_ , along with a worksheet I had to finish by the end of the week. For a moment, I abandoned my school stuff and walked up the stairs towards my room. Fiona called up to me: “Ian, we have company up there!”

I had no idea on what she was talking about until I opened the bedroom door and noticed Mandy sitting on my bed. She was tending to her brother, who was laying down with his back facing the door. When Mandy noticed me, her demeanor had changed from comforting and soft to stern and annoyed. I felt guilty for Mandy giving me that expression. I didn’t mean any harm; I just wanted to help.

“Hey.” I greeted.

Mandy reluctantly responded. “Hey.” She stood up off the bed, leaving Mickey to rest on my bed, and she walked over to me, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

I was nervous to say much to her about the situation. I dismissed those thoughts for a moment and took a quick look at Mickey. “Is he okay?”

Mandy nodded. “He just had a headache. Busy all day and shit.”

I wasn’t sure if this was the right time to decide on whether I should believe her or not, but I just gave in and nodded.

“Don’t pester him, too, Ian. You’re digging yourself too deep in other people’s problems. You’re not gonna like how this story ends if you keep doing shit like that.” And with that, Mandy was out of the room.

I didn’t like that Mandy was trying to get Mickey to close him off, too. It just wasn’t fair. No one here is at fault except Mickey and Mandy’s dad, and I just wanted to support them however I could. Unfortunately, Mandy didn’t believe in dependency, from what it looks like, and I think Mickey thought the same way. Actually, I wasn’t sure about that because he never really told anyone about how he felt, according to everything I saw. It wouldn’t hurt to ask him, though.

Mickey looked like he was still asleep. I didn’t want to wake him, but the urge to ask him all of these questions that were running through my mind was still there. So I walked over to my bed and sat on the edge of it, watching the rise and fall of his chest. One of the rags from the hallway closet looked as if it had fallen off of his head. It was wet; I could tell by the tiny little wet spot on the mattress.

Mickey’s face looked like it was still drying from the tears that had fallen down his face. I wasn’t sure what he had been crying, but from the looks of it, it seems as if he was crying over something that had happened between him and his father.

I took a deep breath. Mandy told me not to get information about that from him, and I tried to fight everything in me that wanted to do just to do that. However, it was hard. I couldn’t back away from something that needed fixing.

Mickey stirred a little. He sharply inhaled the moment his eyes opened, shifting some more on the bed as he tried to sit up. His eyes turned toward me in confusion.

I greeted him, awkwardly. “Hey Mickey.” I spoke with a wave.

Mickey didn’t respond, but he just sat up some more on the bed. When I got a better look at him, I noticed that he had some red marks on his neck. They looked like struggle marks or something, but nothing could distract from the fact that I knew they came from his father. My blood boiled a tad, but I wasn’t physically mad or anything.

“You okay?” I asked him, signing with what little I could remember from what the ASL book Mandy gave me the other day taught me.

Mickey shrugged and started rubbing at his right eye. I looked around and grabbed the black notebook Mickey left over here the previous visit off my desk. I started to write something in it: “Want to talk about what happened?” I wasn’t sure if anything specifically happened or not, but I felt that I needed to know from someone if this was going to work out between me and the Milkovich siblings.

I handed the book to Mickey and he read my message before writing one back to me. He gave the book back, and I read it. “Nah, man. This isn’t your fucking business.”

“It is if you were crying in my bedroom. Just tell me something. You don’t have to say everything that’s on your mind, if you don’t want to, but I just want to make sure I understand you. Is that okay?”

Mickey didn’t write back yet. He looked over my note before looking at me, insecure and upset. I shot back a sympathetic look, placing my hand on Mickey’s leg. I wanted Mickey to know that someone outside of this bubble he and Mandy were trapped in was there for him. He needed some type of mental guidance out of this, and I was willing to give it to him. If Mandy were here right now, she’d probably flip her shit because I didn’t do what she wanted me to do.

If that’s the case, then hell, I’m willing to take that risk.


	10. Mother Dearest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sometimes I can’t stop thinking about what both of our lives would have been like if Dad was the one that passed away and not Mom. Maybe then, I wouldn’t be waking up every morning to someone shaking me by the shoulders, telling me to go out and steal another packet of smokes."

Mandy reminded me to not give out too much information about what happened to us if anyone had asked for it. I don’t know about her, but I think she has a very low tolerance for trust for anyone, as far as I’m concerned. Me, I hold my guard up, too, but sometimes minds don’t think alike. Maybe there actually is someone out there to dig us out of the fiery depths of hell, and if that were the case, then I needed someone to know what was going on.

Ian’s a slow learner – and just because he’s that doesn’t mean he isn’t smart or anything. He’s actually got the balls to open his fucking mouth and say something.

See, Mandy doesn’t want him doing all of that; she wants him to keep his mouth shut like the rest of them and let the wind flow whichever fucking way it goes. As far as I’m concerned, the only wind that’s going whichever fucking way, at least on our end, is the wind coming from every punch in the face we have ever endured throughout our childhood, and it has to stop.

Sometimes I can’t stop thinking about what both of our lives would have been like if Dad was the one that passed away and not Mom. Maybe then, I wouldn’t be waking up every morning to someone shaking me by the shoulders, telling me to go out and steal another packet of smokes. Mama hated that shit, smoke rings floating around the house, but Dad never stopped since he started.

Why she hated that shit? Well, she cared about my health as well as Mandy’s. She wanted her kids to be fucking healthy and not under the influence and all of that. Unfortunately, it’s too late for me; I’ve already had my share of Jack Daniels and whatnot since the age of fifteen.

Still, I miss my mom. She was the last bit of hope I had left in this world, and somehow, it was taken away from me.

She went through a lot of stress since she and Dad got together. If you want my opinion, Dad didn’t deserve her; she was destined for better shit than that. The only reason they were together for so long was because, had they not gotten married, and Mom would have suffered the rest of her life knowing that no one was gonna be there for her. Dad made efforts to make her think otherwise, but that was for a price.

He abused that woman – and by abused, I don’t mean the sugarcoated type of shit. I’m talking about literally tying her down and doing whatever he wanted with her while she screamed for anyone’s help. Dad wasn’t gonna let that happen.

At the same time, though, back before any of my brothers were born, he didn’t want to have kids. That’s just fucking ironic, because Jamie, Tony, Colin, Iggy, Mandy, and I are all here now. I remember the story Mama told me about when Dad said he wanted an abortion before the first kid came, but she never took the birth control pills for it.

She wanted someone she could give a life to, she said, and that’s what she did. She gave all of us a life. A very shitty one, but it was better than nothing.

I don’t know how Jamie, Colin, or Tony had it when they were little, but they were bound to have better childhoods than Mandy and I had combined. And Iggy? He’s the fucking favorite, and I have no idea how or why. Just because he’s more optimistic to whatever the fuck Dad was up to didn’t prove anything, honestly, but Dad liked him. Maybe because he wasn’t a deaf, drunken loser like me or whatever the fuck he would say in his own words.

I know Mama wouldn’t want to choose favorites between her kids. She loved them all too much. Me being the youngest brother of the bunch, and whatever stereotype bullshit society came up with about younger and older siblings in a household, she liked me because, despite the fact that I’m deaf, I pay attention to her and follow what she says and does. Mandy does, too. In a way, it was like we were her favorites.

She would never admit it though; she’ll say something about us having a best quality that she appreciates or whatever.

Mama was my only source of protection when I was little. Mandy barely knew how to form grammatically correct sentences back then. Still, when things got bad with Dad, we would gather together and make sure nothing happened to one another. Funny thing is, Dad never behaved this way about Iggy or my other brothers. If he did, then it was very rare that it would happen.

Dad’s episodes were hell. You know how little kids get hit with belts and shit when they were young? I was just faced with brutality. There were more than belts flying around the Milkovich household. I think one time, Dad had taken a frying pan – with hot grease still on it – and hit me on the fucking head with it. I was surprised that I survived the blow.

Dad never liked me, and I have come to accept that for the longest time. I didn’t like him, either, so I guess that makes us even. But the difference between us is the fact that I’m not the one taking care of him; I was his fucking child. I could have moved out by now and not have to deal with his bullshit, but Mandy is the only person that can understand me and guide me around. However, she was still in school, and I had to wait on her. We made a deal on this shit.

The sad thing is that, ever since Mama passed, I didn’t know what comfort even was anymore. She was always there for me when things got really bad in the house. I remember one time when Dad got fired from his old job, and he got so drunk that the whole neighborhood literally heard him shout out the window. This happened sometime after I had gone deaf at the age of five – within the third week of July, I think. I was so fucking glad that I didn’t hear what he had to say; I was almost certain that he was talking about how much of a useless person I was.

Mandy and I were on Mama’s bed, cuddled up by her side when she held us tightly, like life depended on it. She smoothed the tops of our heads whenever Dad grabbed the nearest vase and threw it against the wall. Mandy and Mama heard everything that happened, and I just sat there confused as fuck as to what they were listening to.

I remember looking up at Mama, asking her if Dad was okay, and she signed back to me, assuring me that I shouldn’t worry about it and just let her protect me. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. What did you expect? I was a goddamn toddler.

Then again, it was probably for the best. After all, Mama just wanted the best for me, and if that meant ignoring what my dad was shouting and shit about in the other room, I guess it was worth it.

However, I’ve been trying to ignore it for years. Years, damn it, and I’m still stuck with this man. Jamie, Tony, Colin, and Iggy got their own place to stay and shit, so they almost never have to see this. Mandy and I, however, are pretty much stuck until Mandy is done with high school, and after that, I don’t know where the fuck we’ll go. She promised that we’d get our own place, far away from Dad, since before her freshman year of high school started.

And every day I have been living in this hell, I hoped she would be right.

* * *

I felt Ian trying to shake me out of my thoughts, and I almost forgot that we were supposed to be sharing a conversation until now. I couldn’t hear him say it, but I could read lips. I looked at his, and I realized that he was asking me if I was okay.

He’s not as annoying as I thought he would be. When I first met the fucker, I didn’t think we’d get along or anything. But here we are, sitting in his bedroom, the same one I got a chance to see long before he was standing in it. Move-in day was just as shitty as living in the old house, and Dad was putting a lot of stress on me and Mandy. I had to get out of there. I don’t know how I found Ian’s place, but I did. It gave me a bad first impression, but what the fuck, I wasn’t intending on impressing anyone in the first place.

I looked Ian directly in the eye and just shrugged. That shrug could mean anything to him, honestly. I don’t know what it was. According to him, however, that was just his cue to continue asking me to get my feelings out, judging by the way he picked the notebook back up and handed it to me. I didn’t like being held hostage like that. Fuck, I’ve felt like that since I knew how to walk properly, and it sucks major ass.

But with Ian, I had no other choice, if I wanted this shit show to be over with.

So I took the red pen that I used for writing my messages back to Ian, and I wrote. I just kept writing what was in my mind, and I was surprised I had this much.

“My dad is a fucking asshole. I mean, what else is there to tell here? He hits me. He hits Mandy. Sometimes it’s more than just a hit. Shit, I’m surprised we still have plates and glasses left in the kitchen.”

I paused for a moment, because I felt the need to collect myself from all of the anger that was building up while I was writing this shit. Ian didn’t make a move or anything; he just waited patiently to see what I wrote. If that wasn’t a pain in the ass to me right now, I don’t know what the fuck was.

I continued to write more in the book. “You know, it’s funny how, according to my mom, he didn’t want any kids, and now he has a fucking liter around the South Side of Chicago. Wanna know what’s just as funny as that? I’m the punching bag, the least favorite, the good-for-nothing piece of shit. Well, Dad thinks that way. It wasn’t my fault that I went deaf, but to this day, he doesn’t want to fucking acknowledge it.”

I stopped again, literally reading everything I wrote on that one page. There was more to this story than what I was writing to Ian, but I was a little scared to tell him about it. All I could think of was what Dad would think if he found out that I was snitching on him.

Then again, he deserves this shit. I could have been a happy fucking kid like everyone else, but fate laid a fucking hand.

Speaking of laying a hand, I felt Ian’s hand on my knee. I guess he saw me fuming internally or something and wanted to make sure that I was okay again. He got off the bed for a brief moment to hand me a glass of water that looked as if it was going warm. When I drank some of the water, though, it was still cold. Then he gestured towards the notebook, and I just gave it to him, because if I were to write anything else, then I was probably going to throw something in his room. I couldn’t risk that, especially after what happened the first time I came in here.

I thought about scratching that stuff out and pretending as if this conversation never happened, but Ian was still reading. Once he got to my final words on the page, he started writing underneath it in a different colored pen. When he was done, he gave the book back, and I read everything.

“Your dad is an asshole; that should be more of a fact than anything.” I smirked a little, because I knew he was right. “If it helps anything, my dad is kind of like yours minus the amount of violence he acts upon on his own kids. One time, he went to the bar he usually goes to, and someone there punched him in the nose. But for some reason, when he came home, after I asked him if he was wearing my T-Shirt, he just punched me in the nose as if it was my fault.”

I had no idea where this story was going, but I was in disbelief. Who the fuck would want to punch this guy in the face, and he didn’t even do shit?

“Point is, you don’t have to pay attention to what your dad says about you. Do you really care who hates you or not? I think you’re a cool guy, and your dad has no fucking idea how lucky he is to have someone like you and Mandy. You don’t realize it, either, and that’s why I want to help you guys out.”

I didn’t have much to say after that. I was honestly fucking stunned to know that this was how much Ian actually cared. No one other than Mama cared this much for Mandy and I before. It’s like a piece of her is still here with me somewhere. This better be a fucking sign.

* * *

I was getting more out of Mickey than I had expected. I must have been doing something right if this was the Mickey that I was getting all of these emotions from right now, even if it was all on paper.

I know I wouldn’t have survived, if I was him. Fuck his dad and everything he has done to his son and daughter. Like, how can someone like him even live with himself?

I was about to ask Mickey something else, but before I had the chance to, Mandy came back in the room with two cans of orange soda, one of which was already open. She frowned at the scene before her, and I already knew where this was leading into.

“What’s going on?” Mandy asked me as she walked closer to the both of us on the bed.

I sighed. “Nothing.”

“You’re such a fucking liar.”

“Well, if I told you the truth, Mandy, you wouldn’t like it much, would you?” I asked her, a bit annoyed. I hated being mad at her, but the way she was dealing with the main problem at hand wasn’t the right way to go. She had plenty of options; she just doesn’t realize them.

She looked at me for a moment and sighed, running a hand through her face once she put one of the soda cans down. “Look, Ian, I get that you’re trying your best to help us out, and Mickey and I appreciate it, but –“

“How do you appreciate something that you keep turning down?” I asked her, because I honestly didn’t get what her angle was.

“You don’t understand, Ian –“

“Oh, I do understand.” I told her, getting up from my seat on the bed. “I understand this more than anything. You’re afraid of your own father, and you’re also afraid of seeking out for help. Do you realize how lucky you are that –“

“If Mickey and I were truly lucky, Dad would have been fucking dealt with years prior, Ian,” Mandy responded, angrily. “Luck is dead to me now. Luck is like fucking love, the American dream, and goddamn Santa Claus; people always believe it exists when it really doesn’t.”

“Mandy.” I complained, running a hand through my head.

I turned my attention back to Mickey, who was trying to get Mandy’s attention. He signed in her direction, occasionally gesturing towards me, and I knew then and there he was talking about me. I wasn’t sure what until Mandy started speaking again.

“We’re already in deep shit, Mick, and it’s only going to get worse,” Mandy explained, signing back to him. “If Dad knows that someone else knows about us, then he’s gonna kill the both of us himself, and then we won’t have such a happily fucking ever after, now will we?” Mandy responded.

For the duration of Mandy’s rant, Mickey had shared a couple of glances over at me. I couldn’t tell whether he was pleading to me or not, but I had somewhat of an idea of what this was. After all, Mandy was still Mickey’s little sister – not too much younger than me – yet she still had a piece of the world she was yet to understand. But it was hard to get it through her head when she was acting this way.

I wasn’t sure what it was. Still, I knew she was better than that.

A noise from downstairs had interrupted my thoughts. It sounded like the front door had slammed shut. Mandy immediately went silent and still, and Mickey was signing again, most likely asking her what had just happened. I immediately heard Fiona downstairs, and she sounded furious.

“They’re not here,” I could faintly hear Fiona’s stern, protective voice from the opened bedroom door.

“Mickey! Mandy!” a familiar voice suddenly boomed throughout the house.

Oh shit. _Oh shit._

It was their fucking dad.

I walked over to the bedroom door and closed it quietly, making sure Mr. Milkovich didn’t hear anything on the second level of the house. When I turned back to the Milkovich siblings, Mandy was literally shitting herself, and Mickey was still confused as to what was going on.

“What the fuck?” I whispered out of shock.

“Why the fuck did Dad come over here?” Mandy whispered in an angered tone.

I furrowed my eyebrows at her. “How the fuck does he know our address?”

Mandy shrugged. “I never gave him an address. How the fuck would I know?”

“Was someone stalking you guys or something when you came over?” I whispered back.

“If someone did, I would have sprayed pepper spray on those assholes already before they made it this far on the fucking road. Honestly, I have no idea –“

All of a sudden, the bedroom door slammed opened. Mandy literally screamed at the sight of her dad, and Mickey sat on the bed with a very shocked expression on his face. I didn’t move an inch; I stood there, eyeing the man behind all evil in the Milkovich residence and folded my arms.

Mr. Milkovich kept his eyes on both Mickey and Mandy and beckoned them over. “Grab your stuff. We’re leaving.”

Neither one of them made a move. I could see Mandy grab Mickey’s hand from the corner of my eye, and I ultimately knew they were both getting scared again.

I noticed Fiona walk in the room, staring Mr. Milkovich down. “Leave them alone.”

“Dad?” Mandy spoke, almost stuttering. “Ian and I were just –“

“No fucking excuses. Let’s go.” He started to walk up toward his kids, and I got scared myself, so I just backed away. Mr. Milkovich grabbed Mandy and Mickey’s wrists, jerking them towards him and making them stumble.

“Dad, you’re hurting me!” Mandy shouted.

“Get over yourself; you’ve been through years of shots from the pediatrician,  and you still survived.”

He pulled Mandy behind him, and he was left staring directly at Mickey. His voice immediately got lower as he lifted his shirt, and from where I stood, I could see a brown and black gun in his pants. “You gotta be a little smarter than that if you want to make it in this world, son. So far, you’re on a slippery fucking slope.”

Mickey was visibly scared. His face went pale, and the area on his arm was getting red with the grip that was being put on it. He didn’t falter one second when his father pulled him towards the bedroom door, and it shocked me to no end how Mickey was even able to keep that up for so long.

Fiona was still standing at the door with her arms crossed over her chest. “I’m going to call the fucking cops if you don’t leave them alone and get out.”

Mr. Milkovich looked her dead in the eye, and I started feeling nervous about what he could possibly do to Fiona. Good thing it wasn’t anything physical, but his threats still felt real. “Tough tits, sweet cheeks. You would have done it for real, if you meant it. But take this as a life lesson for you: anything you attempt to do to me, you will fucking regret it.”

They stood there for a brief moment just looking at each other before Mr. Milkovich pulled Mickey and Mandy out of the room. Fiona and I started following the trio downstairs. I noticed Debbie poke her head out of her bedroom door with Liam in her arms, and I just told her to go back and do whatever she was doing so she wouldn’t have to witness what was going on.

I had made it to the bottom of the stairs when I saw Lip trying to speak to Mandy. He barely got anything of Mandy’s side of the story before the Milkoviches were out the door. I could tell he was confused and was in need of explaining, but I was too angry to tell him everything that happened.

Fiona was fuming, too. I could feel it, from the way she slammed her hand into the wall to the way she frowned at the thought of Mandy and Mickey’s dad. She was pacing in the middle of the living room floor for about fifteen minutes after the Milkoviches had left. A part of me felt as if we should have called the police the moment he was well into the house, but the gun hidden underneath his clothes made me think otherwise.

“Fuck.” Fiona was now muttering under her breath, and she didn’t seem calm for a second. Lip and I came over to her, trying to calm her nerves a tad, but she wasn’t having it.

“He’s not gonna get away with this.” I spoke first, just as mad as Fiona probably was. Maybe even more. “There has to be something we can –“

“I – I just…” Fiona was stuttering now. This was a bad sign. “I mean, he’s never been over here before, and now he’s snatching his own kids away, for fuck’s sakes!” She yelled, and then she took a seat on the couch in front of her. After a moment of running her fingers through her hair, she lifted her head up at us again. “Who the fuck even told him we _lived_ here?”

Just then, the door started to unlock again. We all had turned towards the front door to find another familiar guy step foot in the living room. It didn’t take long for me to realize how the pieces of the story suddenly fit together. My blood was boiling again at the sight of him.

It was fucking Frank.


	11. Permanent Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All of these childhood memories started to come back in my head. Half of them involved the good and bad times I had spent with Mama before she died. The universe was testing me. I didn’t ask for all of these memories to come back. I also didn’t ask for Dad to behave this way towards me and Mandy, but both simultaneously happened all at once."

Frank looked at all of us like we were idiots or something. He reeked of alcohol and whatever drugs was mixed into his clothes, along with maybe dirt and a hint of Chicago pollution. From that alone, I knew he had already gone to The Alibi Room for the day and nearly downed however much alcohol his body could take in one day.

He didn’t even have to say anything for me to know that Mickey and Mandy’s dad was there as well. The look he was giving us all was not a well-deserved one; he can’t play the innocent card on us after what just happened.

“Does no one have manners anymore?” Frank grumbled before he slowly walked towards the kitchen.

However, Fiona was in the way, and she didn’t seem like she had any intention in moving. “How the hell does he know we live here?”

Frank frowned. “God, who?”

“Mr. Milkovich? That man that just barged out the fucking house with two of his kids? How do you know him?” Fiona’s voice was strong, and her hands were placed firmly on her hips, waiting for an explanation.

Frank rubbed a hand in his face as he barged passed my sister, making his way to the fridge to grab the big carton of juice from the middle shelf. “Thought he was just a random newcomer. We were shooting pool at The Alibi. Decent man. He’s good with cars.”

“He’s not fucking decent.” Fiona argued back. She stormed in the kitchen after Frank, and Lip and I followed close behind. “He’s a manipulative, violent bastard who beats on his kids and makes them their fucking slaves. I mean, has he even told you anything about what he does at home?”

“See, right there,” Frank intervened, drinking the carton of juice in his hands. I just had to frown back in disgust because it was funny how he asked us about having manners when he had none at all. “That’s what this generation doesn’t get. Discipline is a virtue; we all need to be the least bit civilized. It prepares you for this world more than anything. If you want to rule this fair country, you gotta do it right.”

Frank never seemed to make sense when he speaks. He always thinks he’s leading some kind of lecture when, in reality, he’s just reciting the things that people should have enforced on him when he was downing gallons of alcohol and doing every illegal thing possible in the city of Chicago. There were even times when his argument didn’t even have a point, like when he spieled to one of the CTA officials about the rules against radio-playing on the L, explaining to them that this generation is not well informed about important events.

“That’s not what I fucking asked you.” Fiona stated, a frown still evident on her face. “You don’t know this man, Frank. He’s probably burned down a whole public school, for all you know, and you’re just making nice with all of this. And what do you think is happening to those kids now?”

Frank placed the juice carton back in the fridge and looked around for something to snack on. “They should be ashes by now; you can’t spare third-degree burns.”

“I’m talking about Mr. Milkovich’s kids,” Fiona clarified. Frank just shrugged, and I’m surprised his alcohol consumption allows him, out of all people, to have brain cells left. “Mickey and Mandy? Those two he dragged out of the house just now?”

“What did they do, leave the toilet seat up?”

Frank’s level of understanding the entire situation was as low as a baby panda’s IQ, and it irritated me to no end. He obviously didn’t take the issue very seriously if he was this confused and asking literally the dumbest questions. Then again, when was Frank ever serious about something that didn’t involve him getting money out of it?

“They need someone to help them, Frank. It doesn’t matter what _they_ did; it’s what their _dad_ did.” Fiona stated. “Can you do me and the rest of this family a favor, grow some balls for once, and have some sympathy? I mean, do you understand what Mr. Milkovich could be doing to them right now?”

I painfully closed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to know what he was doing to them, but I had somewhat of an idea.

* * *

Everything fucking hurts. Dad was kicking me repetitively in the back and in my side while I sit here lying down on the hardwood floor.

I understand, I took his gun out of the fucking house and that he’s wanting it back, but what else was I supposed to do? He almost killed me with it once. Hell, what he was doing to me right now was enough. I can’t face a bullet the way he was making me do so.

I could feel the bruise on my cheek throbbing as he took a brief stop in his pursuit to beat the living shit out of me. At the same time, I could feel my upper leg and my hip throbbing as well. I think my nose was bleeding, too – or was it my lip? I couldn’t tell.

My head turned slightly, still in pain from getting knocked upside the head, and I saw Dad slap my sister in the middle of the room.

I hate it when he’s abusing my sister, the same way I hated it when he was abusing my mother. Girls and women, they should never get hit by boys and men. I have always believed that, even when Mama reminded me of that when I was younger.

Mandy and I have been going through serious lengths to protect each other our entire lives. She already understands how much hell I’ve been through, and of course I have to look out for my only sister. She does so much to make sure I’m able to get what I need, in addition to defending those who made fun of my condition or comprehending my thoughts to other people. She didn’t sign up for this shit; after all, she’s my younger sister with so much going for her.

So much that’s beyond the radar of this very house, that is.

The moment I saw Mandy being dragged by her wrists, I made an attempt to stand up and help her. Of course, everything was still hurting like a bitch, so it made it harder to stand and walk. Mandy saw me and automatically screamed. I couldn’t hear her protests, but it didn’t matter; I didn’t want my dad’s hands gripping onto her like that.

Dad angrily turned to me, releasing Mandy’s wrists and pushing me up against the wall. I got slapped again, but at least Mandy was safe, for now. She was standing there crying, and I pointed to her bedroom door before Dad slapped me again.

The moment she ran, I punched Dad in the face and shoved him out of the way, and I immediately ran to my room, locking the door as I was in. Dad was punching and kicking my bedroom door, but I had sat down against it, hoping and praying that it won’t break down.

Our family was more than dysfunctional. It was fucking toxic. It seems like none of us could get along like we should. I was really referring to Dad, for the most part, but it’s still true. Sometimes I wonder why we can’t just have a normal fucking family like other people do. Then again, there are those kids who don’t have either of their parents and living in either an orphanage or being put in the system with folks they don’t know. Hopefully the parents some of those kids got placed with are ten times better than Dad.

My heart was beating really fast, and my fingers were trembling really fast. Dad was still cursing his head off outside. I wish Mandy was in here right now. I know she’s in the safety and comfort of her own room, but it hurts me knowing that something could happen in there while Dad is still on a rampage. I’m always worrying about her, sometimes more than I’m worrying about myself. I can take a blow once in a while, but not on a daily basis like I am now. With Mandy, it was even worse considering that a girl is getting punched in the face and that she was the last piece of hope I have left after Mama was gone.

It must have been a daydream or something, but I could have sworn that I saw Mama kneeling down in front of me. It reminded me of the day when I came home with a bad report card in kindergarten, and Dad threatened that he would hit me. Right then and there, I started to feel smaller than I already felt all this time.

All of these childhood memories started to come back in my head. Half of them involved the good and bad times I had spent with Mama before she died. The universe was testing me. I didn’t ask for all of these memories to come back. I also didn’t ask for Dad to behave this way towards me and Mandy, but both simultaneously happened all at once.

I didn’t realize I was crying until my room started to look a little blurry. My right hand gripped onto my left knee, the black tattoos on my fingers becoming more apparent against my skin. Dad was banging on my bedroom door again and probably throwing glass or whatever material item he could find throughout the house.

_I didn’t ask to stay a part of this family._

Hell, this isn’t even a family, sans Mandy. My family doesn’t feel complete without Mama.

I could go be with Mama, if I wanted to. She’s waiting for me, I hope. I never really thought about what heaven was like. I would bet five hundred bucks that it was better than here. She must get some special treatment up there. They’re probably tending to the wounds that rest on her face and arms after years of dealing with Dad’s bullshit. Maybe she’s sleeping on a bed of clouds or something, regaining every bit of comfort she lost when she was alive.

My crying got worse. All I wanted to do was go up there, to wherever they were keeping her, and just hug her again. I haven’t gotten a hug from her since three days before she died. She and Dad were having some argument in the living room when Mandy, my brothers, and I were trying to sleep. It was dead silent a while later, and I worried about whether she got severely hurt or not. In reality, she did get hurt, but she was just making sure everyone else was tucked in before she came into my room.

She didn’t seem affected by what had previously happened, which was making me worried. I reached my arms out to her, and she…just looked at me. She looked at me like she found some treasure hidden in the yard somewhere, yet at the same time, like she saw the tiniest cat in the world get thrown against a brick wall. I don’t know exactly what I did, but she started sobbing as she sat on the bed with me and hugged me for dear life.

That was the most I’ve seen Mama cry, and it left me with a very uncomfortable and saddening pain in my chest. She gripped onto me, and I buried my face into her shoulder. A lot of emotions were enforced during that exchanged; regardless, I still wish that I could get that back.

I wanted everything back. I wanted to live in a safe environment again, with Mama and Mandy by my side. I had Mandy already, but Mama was in heaven somewhere, which seemed like the only good place known demand compared to this house with Dad.

I need Mama back. I need to see her just once. I just want her to tell me that I’m safe with her and that everything would be okay.

* * *

Mandy didn’t come to school today, and I was starting to get worried about her. Something severe must have happened at the Milkovich house last night – or even this morning – for Mandy to not show up to class. During the first few periods of class, I bit a couple of my fingernails and tapped my fingers against the desktop nervously. Maybe I annoyed the people around me, maybe I didn’t; I didn’t care, for my mind was focused on Mandy and Mickey back at that house.

Lunch was boring and lonely again. Only this time, Mandy didn’t walk in and start off our conversation like nothing happened, leading to me so-called _pestering_ about hers and Mickey’s safety in the Milkovich house and Mandy storming out the room. This time, I was in there alone for good for the entire day, and the rest of my classes didn’t turn out so well, either.

We got a shit ton of homework today, but I have yet to understand the reason why. So much stress was piling up on my shoulders, and the amount of assignments I had to complete for tomorrow didn’t help it. I thought about staying after school to work on some of them to get them out the way, but I decided against it. I had to call Mandy and see what was going on.

When I returned back home, Mandy was already there on the porch. She didn’t look so good. Before acknowledging her, I had noticed that she had some red marks on her arms near her wrists. She was biting down on her bottom lip, looking down at something on the steps when I came over and placed my backpack down.

She looked up at me slowly, expressionless. “Any of the teachers give you shit yet?” she asked casually.

“Why didn’t you come to school today?” I asked, seeming more curious than upset. I knew she didn’t want to talk to it, but I feel myself getting in that direction already, and I don’t think there was a way to turn back.

Mandy shrugged. “Appointment.”

“Are you sure?” I asked her, although I already knew she was lying to me again.

She nodded. “Plus, I wasn’t feeling too good last night, and I wasn’t going to stress over some fucking math problems.” The air was silent between us again as she played with the phone in her hand.

I took a seat on the porch next to her. I didn’t say anything else; I decided to relax with her, because I was having a long day myself. Fiona was still at work, Debbie was probably hanging out with friends, Carl was still suspended, Lip was most likely with his girlfriend, Liam was at Sheila’s place, and I had no idea where the hell Frank was nor did I have the desire to care, so it was just me with Mandy.

I still feel that there is more to this story than the fact that Mandy had to go to the appointment and the fact that she wasn’t feeling well. Hell, I don’t think she even went to the doctor today. She and Mickey probably got abused by their asshole father again, and he forced Mandy to stay home for whatever reason. It was all stupid and unfair. I didn’t want their Dad to get in the way of school or us hanging out together. The Milkovich kids are great, and I want this friendship thing between us to keep going.

My thoughts were interrupted when Mandy had addressed me. “Mickey left sometime today, and I can’t find him.”

As if I was set on autopilot, I whirled around and faced Mandy with shocked eyes. “You don’t know where he is?”

Mandy shook her head. “I remember being in the shower earlier this morning, and when I got out, he was gone. I don’t know what happened or where he has to go, but he can’t be out there alone.”

“Why not?”

“I mean, it’s obvious,” Mandy explained. “How the hell do you expect a deaf kid to answer the question as to where the nearest bar is? It’s simple science, Ian.” I mean, it was, if you think about it, but then again, I figured that Mickey was old enough to guide himself around. In retrospect, there were some things he couldn’t do alone, and that’s where Mandy came in.

“Did he take his phone with him?” I asked.

“Yeah, but he’s not answering it.” Mandy pushed the home button on her phone, staring deep into the device’s screen for another message from her brother. “Dad didn’t notice much, so that was somewhat of a good thing. Still, I need to know where he is so I won’t lose my fucking mind.”

I couldn’t help but agree. I mean, I didn’t have an idea on where he or his dad are now, but I hope the presumed fight they had last night didn’t lead to something critical. “And your dad isn’t with him?”

“Drunk in The Alibi Room, most likely. If he’s not there, he’s doing a run with my brothers. Either way, the house is quiet for the first time since we moved in.”

“That’s an improvement.”

“Doesn’t mean I wanna go back there.”

That. That right there, from the way I interpreted in my head, was Mandy’s plea for help. It could also be Mickey’s as well, which is probably why he had ran off the way he did. What if he was trying to find some relative to stay with or something?

Hell, even if he was doing that, why would he leave his sister behind? It didn’t make sense.

Mandy’s phone buzzed in her hands, and she immediately opened it to check the message she just received. Seconds later, she stood up off the porch and started to walk down the steps before she turned to me. “Can you come with me? This is kind of important.”

I frowned at her with much confusion. “Wait, what? Did something happen? Did you find Mickey?”

“Yeah, he texted back,” Mandy explained. “He said he wanted me to come get him when he’s done.”

“Where is he?”

Mandy took a moment and sighed. “Cemetery.”

The puzzles didn’t fit where they were supposed to now. Why the cemetery, I wasn’t sure. I was to find out though as soon as I placed my backpack up in my room and followed Mandy back out and to the train.

* * *

I had no idea on where the hell we were even going. Good thing Mandy was leading the way, because the route we were going to find Mickey was very unusual.

We caught one of the L trains just in time and rode on it for the next eight stops until it was time to get off. Then Mandy and I took the bus and got off three or four stops later. When we got off, all I could see was this long, concrete wall that surrounded the perimeter of some land that was hidden on the other side. I felt out of place coming here with Mandy, but Mickey was in there somewhere, and I had no idea why, but I was closer to finding out.

The grass behind the cemetery walls were freshly cut and shining within the sun’s rays. It was almost a holy place, and that all of the bodies that were buried six feet under were being shed some light on. It felt different being over here for some reason.

I turned to my left and noticed an elderly woman and her family crying while they observed one of the graves with yellow and purple flowers planted beside it. This place got depressing really quick, and I suddenly didn’t feel right being here.

“There he is.” Mandy spoke to me the moment we made it to a very shady tree.

We had made it up on a hill, standing under a very tall tree as we saw Mickey lying on the grass on one side, his eyes focused on a rectangular-shaped tombstone that looked very smooth if one were to touch it. There was an old teddy bear with one of the eyes missing from it sitting on one side of the tombstone, which I assumed belonged to one of the Milkovich kids when they were little. Mickey looked depressed, judging by the way he shook while he was eyeing the stone in front of him.

“I didn’t think it would get this bad.” Mandy sighed, looking ahead at her older brother. She gulped the moment she saw Mickey’s head move slightly, most likely to wipe some tears off his face.

I didn’t feel like it was my place to ask these questions, but I had to. “Why did he come here?”

Mandy’s hand twitched. “To see our mom.”

And that’s when it made sense. Mickey was missing his mom. It opened up more thoughts about what the Milkovich family background was like before they moved to our neighborhood. “When did she die?” I had to ask as I watched Mickey shake again, upset.

“When Mickey was five years old.” Mandy said silently. “I barely knew much about her when I was little, but she meant a lot to me. Not as much she meant to Mickey, but it’s still something, right?”

I nodded while stuck in deep concentration and remorse. Mandy and Mickey were both sad, from what I’ve gathered about their mother so far. It made sense, finally, but now it made me feel worse about not only their living conditions, but their overall safety and comfort as well. I didn’t know anything about their mother or what she did specifically in order to provide for the two Milkovich siblings, but I know from the information I received how much of an impact she had on them.

Mandy was quiet for a few moments, her eyes still stuck on Mickey. I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, but I hated seeing those two like that. After experiencing years without Monica in the household, I can almost understand what it’s like to not have a mother around, excluding Fiona, who, in fact, was my older sister, yet she behaves more like a mother than Monica ever did.

Then again, my personal mom issues didn’t equal this.

“I’m gonna go get him, alright?” Mandy finally spoke, and she slowly made her way over to Mickey. I looked at the two of them as Mandy knelt down on the grass beside Mickey, and I took a step ahead to read the tombstone from afar.

_In Loving Memory of Margaret Milkovich: Loving Wife, Devoted Mother._


	12. Mama Milkovich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Throughout most of the day, I spent it crying in front of Mama’s tomb and signing in front of it, recalling some of the good moments we shared when Mandy and I were little and reminding Mama of the torture we’re experiencing today. There was so much to tell her. There were even times I felt that I was rambling my ass off, but I didn’t care because I wanted to talk to my mom so badly. I wanted to for years, but I couldn’t until today."

I had been thinking all night about this, and it was driving me nuts. The constant banging on walls and throwing things around had stopped in the hallway last night, but that didn’t mean that it wouldn’t start up again. Dad got mad over the pettiest fucking things, and that’s why I hate living under his roof. I needed to get away, even if it was just for a minute.

When I woke up this morning, I had a headache. The tears that were on my face had dried up on my cheeks, and I was still sitting on the floor where I was with my clothes on. I guess I fell asleep during the breakdown I had about Mama last night and didn’t think to change into any pajamas and go to bed. The bed wasn’t going to be enough for me. It wasn’t going to bring back the same comfort I felt when Mama was around. Besides, Dad was acting like a fucking lunatic, and I felt the need to protect myself. So staying on the floor in front of the bedroom door wasn’t a bad idea.

Well, until I stood up and had to get all of the crooks out of my damn neck.

I lazily walked through my room, trying to figure out what the hell to wear when I had noticed something fall off the shelf in my bedroom closet. A brown teddy bear with a red ribbon and a missing eye was facing the ceiling on the floor. Shit, I hadn’t seen that thing since I was young.

But I do remember why I haven’t gotten rid of it.

Mama had given me that bear when I was turning three years old. I took the damn thing everywhere. It was symbolic, something special to me. It was like Mama was spiritually and mentally everywhere I went and that she knew I would be safe.

However, it didn’t last very long. I was sick at one point when I was about four years old. I’m not sure if it’s something I ate or what, but my stomach was in a great deal of pain. Dad tried to get me out of bed to go to preschool, but I sat there complaining about how sick I was. Of course, Dad didn’t listen. He tried to put up a fight with me, and he even snatched the bear out of my hands at one point. That’s how the eye went missing; he fucking snatched it off.

At some point, Mama had retrieved the bear and gave it back to me, but I was still fucking pissed. Something that meant a lot to me was ruined – _tainted_ , even – by his damn grubby hands. It’s like I can’t have any nice things in the world anymore.

When I found the bear today, I held it in my hands for about a few minutes, missing how soft the fur on it was. It reminded me of every time Mama would hold me when she was knitting a sweater for one of us in the winter. Or when she watched TV on the couch. Or even when she tucked me in to go to sleep. Even when things got bad between her and Dad, she would always find some time out of her day to come to me and wrap her loving arms around me.

Damn, I miss her fucking hugs. I miss everything about her.

Before meeting the Gallaghers, I never wanted to move in the first place. Some would say that moving out of the old house would make it easier for me to let go of Mama and let her rest in peace. I didn’t care what anyone said; there were too many memories in that old house for me to move out. The only reason we had to was because someone was looking out for Dad, and he wasn’t going to risk anything.

We had to leave everything behind – the height marks Mama made on the door frame by the kitchen, the little secret hiding place in Mama’s room where she hid my allowance for the week – _every_ fucking thing. And for what, because someone was gonna rat Dad out on something? I would have rather had him killed for all I care than leave everything behind that meant a lot to me.

All of this made me so fucking angry. I could feel angry tears come down my face. Angry tears from Dad being a fucking douchebag and not giving a shit about his own wife and kids. Angry tears from all of the abuse each one of us had to endure at some point in our childhoods. Angry tears from making Mama feel so insecure about herself and yet treating her like a slave.

Angry tears…from making her make her own decision to take her fucking life.

Had she still been alive, and she could have taken Dad’s parental rights away and divorced that son of a bitch. Maybe then, I would be able to go to school – despite my reluctance about it in general – and possibly become as smart as Mandy. It’s not like I was jealous of her or anything, but at least Mama cared about my being unlike Dad did.

Life wasn’t fucking fair. Nothing was ever fair anymore.

I turned towards my nightstand, the bear still stuck in my hands, and I looked at the framed photo of Mama, Mandy, and I on my third birthday. The damn thing was so old, but I couldn’t help it. I loved that photo. I’ve always kept that photo ever since my grandma had given it to me during one of our family reunions. Back then, we were happy. Well, at least we tried to. Mandy was a baby, so I don’t think she remembers much earlier than six years old.

Nonetheless, Mama was there with us, just as beautiful as the day we saw her in her silver coffin on the day of her funeral. I realized my crying got worse again when I realized that I wanted to see her again.

I knew that wasn’t going to be possible, seeing her actual face again in person, but I could still _see_ her.

I didn’t realize that I was up earlier than Mandy and Dad. Mandy had school today, but I wasn’t sure how she was feeling after what happened last night. And Dad…I didn’t want to think about Dad.

So I just took a quick shower, found something to wear, took the bear and my phone, and darted out the door. I wanted to be with Mama and make up for all the lost family time we missed out on together. I didn’t want Dad to find out, though. He didn’t care where I went; he just wanted to make sure I got whatever I needed and just live on like the jackass he lives to be.

* * *

It took a couple of trains and buses to get to the cemetery, but I eventually made it there. It was hot as balls outside, and the sun was literally on everything. I haven’t really decided how long I wanted to be out here, especially with nothing else to do, but seeing Mama was more important than anything. I walked past a few men in suits who were carrying a coffin to the other side of the land, but I just kept walking.

I faintly remember what it was like being out here on the day of Mama’s funeral. We had left a church close to downtown where her funeral was held to come here for her burial. There were red and white roses everywhere. I remember sitting by a very tall tree under the shade between Colin and Mandy, holding my baby sister tightly as we watched professionals lower our mom into the earth. Those specific memories made this place very familiar.

I eventually found the tree I was looking for. There were a few tombstones surrounding it, but there was plenty of space where the shade was located so people won’t get sun burned by the damn sun rays.

And right there, underneath this very long branch attached to the tree was Mama’s tombstone.

The damn thing was beautiful, made out of marble, with the words on the front carved to perfection. _In Loving Memory of Margaret Milkovich: Loving Wife, Devoted Mother_. Damn fucking right, she was loving. She was loving to people who didn’t even deserve it. The sight of people actually looking at Dad, telling him that they’re sorry for his loss, sickened the shit out of me. He was probably glad that she was gone.

I walked slowly towards it, because fuck, I can’t believe I’m actually here. I’m standing here in front of Mama’s tombstone thirteen years later, alone with healing bruises and scars on my body. Her soul was up there somewhere, watching down on me and crying about how she left her own kids to this hell.

But I wasn’t gonna blame her. Hell, she was lucky to get out of here, or she would have been suffering for another thirteen years.

I sat down in the grass in front of the tombstone, crossing my legs and looking straight ahead at the little landmark ahead. I had a lot that I wanted to tell Mama right now, but I know I couldn’t because of my condition. I couldn’t hear a damn thing around me, whether it be the breeze blowing on the trees or the fucking families around the land, sobbing their asses off at one of their relatives buried six feet under.

But I was by myself. No one else was around me, and even if they were, they were probably miles away from me.

I haven’t said a word since I realized that I was permanently deaf. I didn’t want to know what people heard when I tried to speak to someone. All I wanted was to feel normal again. I wanna know what other people get to hear on a daily basis, even if it was the most annoying shit ever created. I wanted to fucking hear it, but I can’t. Not one surgery in the world could get my hearing to come back.

Still, I was sitting here in front of Mama’s tombstone, and like mentioned before, no one else was with me. I was by myself. Besides, this wasn’t a time to think about myself; this was supposed to be the time I would be spending with Mama, and I didn’t fucking care if she was dead or not.

So I went for it. I took a deep breath, my nerves getting the better of me, and I finally spoke. “Hi Mama.” I know I couldn’t fucking hear it, and it made me mad every day since it all started.

I didn’t know what else I wanted to tell her after that. I know if I either sign it or say it that she won’t be able to respond to either one. I caught myself grabbing a couple of blades of grass around me, trying to collect all of my inner thoughts. God, I had so many. I didn’t know where to start. I couldn’t just say something like, “Oh, thanks for killing yourself and allowing Mandy and I to suffer more throughout our childhoods.” That wasn’t the plan here.

When I looked ahead at her tomb again, one of my hands reached out to run a finger through the letters of her name. It felt so real. I don’t know why, but coming in contact with her tomb again after thirteen years without her made me realize how much denial I was in. With every fight Dad had started with me and Mandy, I’ve always thought that Mama would come in and heal our wounds and doing whatever she could to protect us. But she couldn’t; she was here underneath the ground, right where I was sitting.

Something in the way things were now started my tears up again. I didn’t even care if people were around me watching. Fuck them. Let them watch. I lost my fucking mother. How else was I supposed to feel?

Throughout most of the day, I spent it crying in front of Mama’s tomb and signing in front of it, recalling some of the good moments we shared when Mandy and I were little and reminding Mama of the torture we’re experiencing today. There was so much to tell her. There were even times I felt that I was rambling my ass off, but I didn’t care because I wanted to talk to my mom so badly. I wanted to for years, but I couldn’t until today.

I missed every memory we had together. I missed it when the Milkovich family actually cared about the cheesy holiday scene and we decorated the house and everything. I missed it when we would go to the Sox game in the summer time and eat shitty peanuts while watching our team get every score. I missed it when we made snowmen in the snow when Chicago would be covered in shit tons of it. I missed it when we left the city to visit relatives on the east side of the country, and Mama would comfort Mandy whenever she looked out the window at the clouds and absence of town buildings.

Fuck, I missed it all. I missed it.

* * *

I had been there for hours, and it was pretty hot. At one point, I think I fell asleep in front of that tomb until about three o’clock. Coincidentally, when I woke back up, my phone was buzzing in my pocket. Mandy had been trying to reach me. She left a bunch of messages wondering where I was or what I was up to. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to tell her or not, because all of the feelings I had bottled up since we moved were still heavy.

At the same time, she was probably worried about me. It makes sense. She’s my little sister; she always worries. Plus, she was probably getting out of school right now or wherever the fuck she was, most likely headed back home to Dad.

So I texted her back. “I’m at the cemetery.” I don’t think I needed to clarify anything, because she already knew why I was out here in the first place.

Or so I hoped.

Having her show up here was fucking embarrassing. Usually I was the one watching her as tears fell directly from her eyes. Now here I was, the broken one. I didn’t like feeling this way, but due to some natural fucking cause, it happened. I’m just as broken as Mandy, and nothing would take that back.

What was even more embarrassing was the fact that she probably wasn’t alone, to my knowledge. I knew she had to have brought Ian here, if not one of our brothers. The only way I know this is because fuck everything if Mandy was coming here by herself.

Then again, she’s a big girl as well. She was tough enough to stand up to strangers…right?

I felt her hand up against my arm, which took me out of my gaze at Mama’s tombstone in front of me. I had been awake for the past twenty or thirty minutes, covered in tears again. I thought the sun would wipe away all of my problems – or at least one of them – but I was wrong.

Finally, turning around, I noticed the look Mandy was giving me. She looked sympathetic…and sad. It looked like she was holding back something but didn’t want to admit it. We both knew that look too well; we used it on each other, and even on other people, when we knew what the hell happened behind closed doors. It sucked feeling like this, it really did. However, Milkoviches weren’t meant to be soft people. Dad made us aware of that all the time. We’ve been like this since forever, and the grip I had on my exterior caused great pain inside somewhere. I hated hurting all of the time.

Mandy was trying to get my attention again. “Come on, Mickey. Let’s go back home.” Fuck that. I didn’t want to leave Mama here by herself. I had to be here with her. Mandy understands what I’m going through here, too.

When I didn’t respond to her, she took my arm and pulled me up. I finally made it back to seating position, but I couldn’t budge. Mandy was grunting things at me that I couldn’t hear, but I didn’t fucking care because I didn’t want to leave Mama here in the ground by herself.

I know she was trying. Mandy was really trying to help me here, but I didn’t want the help. I didn’t want to face another five years of pain and misery that Dad was inflicting on the both of us, and she knew that very well already. I knew she knew that because of the way she was trying to talk to me just now. “Come on. Let Mama rest, Mickey.”

I wanted Mama to rest more than anything, but fuck it if I wasn’t going to be by her side the moment I left from here.

“Mickey, we can’t keep doing this, okay?” Mandy asked, the same sad expression still apparent on her face. The way she signed at me looked desperate. “I know, I miss Mama, too, and I want her alive more than anything, but she’s in a better place now. We’ve gotta be strong for her, okay?”

I was visibly scared at this point, and I wasn’t sure why. This was probably denial’s way of making itself back into my life, but I didn’t like it how someone had to physically tell me something that I should already know.

Mandy’s hand inched itself back over to me, and I almost fell back. I found myself scooting myself towards Mama’s tomb and away from Mandy, more tears forming in my eyes. I covered my mouth instantly because now that Mandy was here, I didn’t want anyone to hear the cries that could come out of my mouth.

Mandy looked so tired of fighting with me. Trust me, I didn’t want to fight with her in the first place, but it was one of those sibling moments we shared where it got to that point.

Her lips and chin were trembling, and she had to press her lips together to contain herself. That didn’t stop her eyes from getting watery, though. She didn’t chase me anymore; she just looked at me like she was lost and in need of help. “Please,” I saw her mouth at me after moments of nothing. That’s when I lost it again. I leaned forward, covering my entire face with my hands and resting them on my lap in front of me.

After a couple of sobs escaped my mouth, Mandy had already crawled in front of me, patting me on the back and trying to get me to hug her. We both shared a moment of staring at each other, our eyes constantly tearing up and reddening, and then I reached over to her and wrapped my arms around her, crying on her shoulder.

We held each other like that for about five minutes while we were out there. Mandy rubbed my back the entire time, occasionally running her fingers through my hair like Mama did. I saw a lot of qualities in Mandy that reminded me of Mama, mostly good ones. Maybe it was because she was the only other female in the Milkovich household or whatever the fuck else, but the thought of it scared me and made me happy that she was still here at the same time.

I had to collect myself as we were knelt down right there in the grass. After I calmed down some, I lifted my head. On the corner of my eye, I saw Ian Gallagher standing by the tall tree, leaving us to our grieving. He looked scared, too. He looked like he didn’t want to interrupt anything, so he just kept to himself while, at the same time, looking over at us. I guess that was his way of showing his respect.

Hell, I respected him for that. Not just that, but for coming out here with Mandy in the first place. He wasn’t so bad.

* * *

The walk out of the cemetery and the bus rides to the train station felt very long. There seemed to be a lot of tension in the air as the two Milkovich siblings were still mourning over the loss of their mother. I know it’s been years since she’s died, but it still felt like she just died days ago. Everything felt so fresh to me, and to see Mickey crying in front of his own mother’s tomb brought on so many sad feelings.

We didn’t go home immediately. I had some money on me and decided to get Mickey and Mandy some ice cream from Baskin Robbins to help calm them down a bit. Mandy eventually felt better after a couple scoops of cherry-flavored ice cream, but Mickey didn’t really change excluding the amount of tears that fell onto his cheeks. His eyes were still red like before, and he never said anything to neither me nor his sister.

We got on the next available train towards my house. I sat in one of the seats that were going sideways while Mickey and Mandy were seated in the ones that were going in the direction of the train cars. Mandy allowed Mickey to rest his head on her left shoulder while she checked her phone for the time and any messages from other people.

I looked at Mickey’s restless form in front of me. Seeing his mother today must have taken a lot of energy out of him, and I wouldn’t blame him for it.

Then I looked at Mandy. One of her hands reached up to Mickey’s hair, smoothing some of it out gently as Mickey rested beside her. “Mandy?” I spoke up, and she looked back at me. It wasn’t my right to really bring more tension or anything in regards to their mother, but I still had questions about her. “H-How did she die?”

Her facial features didn’t change when she processed the question in her head. “Assumed cause of death? Homicide. Actual cause of death? Suicide.”

I didn’t get it. It was either one or the other, wasn’t it? “What do you mean?”

Mandy sighed. “Dad treated her like shit, Ian. Like she was fucking property. And whenever she did something he didn’t approve of, he would threaten her and beat the shit out of her. There are times when she even puts all of her effort towards something to please him, yet he’ll look at her and call her a piece of shit.”

I didn’t realize that I was holding my breath until I saw Mandy try to collect herself in front of me again. She was pretty fucking pissed, too, and it only made me hate what their dad has done to his own family.

“The day before she died, they had a fight in the kitchen, and Dad told her, no one will ever love you in this world, and that she should be lucky that she has someone to take care of her, whatever that meant.” Mandy further explained, rolling her eyes.

I nodded, still mad at the information I was getting. “That night, when Dad had gone out for a drink, she was sobbing hysterically after she tucked my brothers in for bed. I was awake when it happened, but I didn’t let her know of that because if I did, then she would probably worry about scaring me or something. I don’t know.”

Mandy looked as if she was gonna get emotional again. Her chin trembled a tad as she looked down at her own lap. I felt the lump in my throat growing even more while listening to the story. It was very sad, hearing this story about their mother’s death, and it made me almost wish that I didn’t ask for it. “I should have checked on her. I should have done something, Ian. But what the fuck was a four-year-old supposed to do, huh? What the fuck was I supposed to do?”

Some tears fell from her face, and she immediately closed them, feeling her throat swell up from the pain. Out of instinct, grabbed her shoulder from where I was sitting, trying to get her to calm down again. She didn’t cry too loud or anything, but hearing the sniffles from her nose hurt me still. She grabbed my hand when she felt it on her skin, and I gripped at it as hard as I could without hurting her.

Mickey’s head lifted off of his sister’s shoulder, and he was looking at her with concerned eyes. Then he turned back to me, looking just as sad as he was about a while earlier.

I didn’t like seeing Mickey and Mandy like this. It hurt too fucking much. It’s bad enough that there were other people on the train, but fuck them. None of them knew what it was like to be two kids trapped under the care of their own abusive father who didn’t give two shits about them or their mother. None of them.


	13. Treading Rough Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This wasn’t going to end well if Mandy was going to argue with me again about letting someone know about hers and Mickey’s current situation. But I can’t leave her and Mickey alone like this. I mean, you can’t just take the boat and leave the island, abandoning your own friends like that. I can’t leave them there; I have to take them with me somehow."

Today was a really heavy day. Mickey and Mandy both looked like a complete mess, and I had to make sure that I didn’t overstep too many boundaries for one day. A lot of progress has been made, for they were both able to get stuff off their chests.

Mandy still had some tears plastered on her face, and Mickey was just quiet for the majority of the way back home. I didn’t address either one of them until we made it to the front door of the house, though the thick air around us as we made that journey was very uncomfortable, and I was strongly aching to speak up about it. I had respect for the Milkovich siblings, though, so I kept my inner thoughts to myself.

Again, neither Mandy nor Mickey decided to speak as I made my way upstairs to grab some homework I had abandoned a couple of hours ago. When I came back downstairs to grab a Pop Tart from the cupboards, Fiona was in the living room, sitting beside Mandy on the couch with a comforting hand on her forearm.

“Did something happen back at home?” Fiona asked cautiously. Mandy shook her head. “Something at school?” Again, Mandy’s head shook. Fiona took a beat in between questions so she could give time Mandy to calm down a bit. “You sure you’re okay? Do you want anything? I’m making lasagna for dinner, and you guys are welcome to join us.”

Finally, Mandy shook her head again. “It’s fine.” From the saddened tone in her voice and the way she wiped her tears off her face, I knew that wasn’t true.

Fiona thought the same thing – or at least that’s what I believed. She didn’t move an inch after Mandy spoke until she brought a hand up to Mandy’s shoulder to massage it a bit to help comfort her. “I’ll save you and Mickey a plate just in case, and you can go into the fridge and grab it. Is that a deal?” And with a final nod from Mandy, Fiona got up from the couch and headed back into the kitchen.

I made my way into the living room once Fiona was gone, placing my homework on the coffee table and sitting beside Mandy. Mickey had stood up and gone upstairs, most likely up to mine and my brothers’ room to rest from the overwhelming day he had when he went to see his mother.

“I don’t want…this to spark up between us again.” I began quietly, pulling out a random worksheet and looking at Mandy’s profile.

This wasn’t going to end well if Mandy was going to argue with me again about letting someone know about hers and Mickey’s current situation. But I can’t leave her and Mickey alone like this. I mean, you can’t just take the boat and leave the island, abandoning your own friends like that. I can’t leave them there; I have to take them with me somehow.

“Just say it, Ian.” Mandy spoke, quietly but firmly. She knows what I’m thinking, and it’s no surprise. After a while, me being concerned about her family life has caused her to act out of instinct, reluctantly wanting time to pass by as I throw out questions and suggestions here and there.

I’d be sick of me if I were to do the same thing to myself, but I’m not the one with the abusive father at home. Hell, Frank is barely home himself.

I took a deep breath and spoke again. “I think you should tell Fiona about what happened today,” I explained. “Not now, not even tomorrow. Just whenever you’re ready.”

“And when do you expect me to be ready, Ian?” Mandy asked, exasperated.

How the fuck should I know, honestly? I mean, people had a time and place for doing things, sure; but Mandy’s kind of unpredictable. Her and Mickey, too. I barely knew them for even a month, and I know that for a fact.

Still, they both couldn’t wait for time to pass by, either. If they wait any longer, they might end up in a situation they’ll both regret. I can imagine almost two hundred scenarios where Mr. Milkovich is ripping one of their heads off or slicing up their faces, but it doesn’t matter which one will occur because they’re all possibilities.

Unlike him, I actually care about Mickey and Mandy. I do. That’s why I, according to Mandy, I assume, am being annoying as hell right now. People who care about you pester you about this type of shit. Like how Fiona always yells at Carl, telling him not to ride his bike off the porch steps, or how she tells Debbie not to expose her body in school. We’re different people, but we care just alike.

“Soon?” I answered Mandy’s question with somewhat of another question. “Do you and Mickey honestly want to live another year of torture and regret because you didn’t listen to the outside world and ask for someone’s help with your piece of shit father?” I saw Mandy nervously gulp beside me, and I knew from that gesture that I was getting somewhere. “Do you want to fight another fucking day of your life just to have one of your dad’s fists strike your fucking face?”

Mandy ran a hand through her face and sighed. “Please don’t do this, Ian –“

“No, Mandy. I have to,” I interrupted, “because if I don’t, then I’m gonna have to attend both of you guys’ fucking funeral, feeling guilty for all the shit that I could have done to protect you!”

There was a brief silence between us. I heard Fiona enter the room again, but I didn’t turn my head to face her. “Ian?” she grabbed my attention. “Is everything alright in here?”

My eyes were still on Mandy’s, full of all the fury that had been built up since I stepped foot into the Milkovich home for the second time. Meanwhile, Mandy sat there before me, probably scared of the fact that I just gave her what I believed to be the cold, hard truth about this entire situation.

I shook my head in response to my older sister. “No, we’re all good here.” I finally said before taking my stuff and bringing them upstairs, leaving Fiona and Mandy in the living room by themselves.

* * *

Mandy never mentioned anything about heading back to the house, so I was mostly thankful about that. But at the same time, I was still kinda bored. I took a nap for about half an hour, and my stomach was killing me. Mandy and Fiona came up to the guys’ room, telling me that there was some lasagna in the fridge for me if I wanted it, and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

So after a long-awaited stretch, I made my way downstairs and to the fridge. One of the Gallagher brothers – I think the guy’s name was Carl – was working on some homework he missed out on or something, and Fiona was in the living room talking to some chick that I don’t even know. Meanwhile, Ian was upstairs doing homework, Mandy was God knows where, and I didn’t know the whereabouts of the other Gallaghers.

The Gallagher fridge was fucking full to the max, with probably some spoiled milk and rotten apples here and there. I saw the Saran-wrapped plate with my name on it beside the one with Mandy’s name on it and took it off the shelf. I took the wrapping off and placed the whole plate in the microwave for about a minute and ten seconds, waiting for the food to get warm.

My eyes glanced over to the kitchen drawers. I don’t know why, but I found myself opening them one at a time until I came across one that held some utensils. There was a big ass knife in there with a very sharp blade, and I caught myself taking it out and eyeing the shine on it against the kitchen light.

I could do it here. I could. I could run the damn thing directly through my arm and into my veins and end it right here, right now. Dad wouldn’t give a shit, and Mandy would probably prefer heaven to the earthly hell we’re in right now. And it’s not like I’m expecting the Gallaghers to give much of a shit anyways. They could always have new neighbors just like us, but in a more stable household, that is.

Plus, if I were to do it now, I’d finally get the opportunity to be with Mama again. She was the only one who cared about me back when she was alive. If Mandy did the same, I couldn’t tell because she was younger than me and could barely express her emotions like everyone else could.

I wasn’t over what happened today, and I probably never will be. I didn’t want to be here in the Gallagher house; I want to go back to the cemetery and fall asleep by my mom’s side again. Fuck it if the people working there would try to kick me out or anything, because they don’t know what a real connection between a mother and son looks like. Mama and I were more connected than any of us in the Milkovich clan, and that meant something to me.

And you know what? It still does.

That’s why I began to line the damn blade up against my left arm, holding the utensil horizontally before making any cuts. I briefly looked up at Carl, who was still working on whatever and didn’t even flinch when the microwave had went off. I couldn’t focus on my hunger; I was getting riled up again, in addition to already feeling empty.

I held my breath as the blade connected to the skin on my wrist. Some of the blood in my wrist oozed out a little as I deepened the cut just a tad. I released some of my breath when I took the knife off my wrist before placing the blade underneath the bloody line to create another cut. This one wasn’t as deep as the first one, but I could still see the blood come out just a little.

I felt myself jump out of my fucking skin when I felt two hands grasp at my shoulders. One of Fiona’s hands had grabbed onto the knife that was in my right hand and dumped it into the sink in the soapy water. Someone had whirled me around, and I then came in contact with my little sister. She was yelling at me about something, but I couldn’t tell since she didn’t sign anything to me. She looked pretty upset.

Fiona had sent Carl upstairs, abandoning the work he had on the table, and then she tried to speak to me. I was at a loss of words because I wasn’t exactly sure on who caught me cutting myself first. Maybe Mandy, but not intentionally.

The woman Fiona was talking to earlier came into the kitchen with some band-aids and an orange rag for me, taking the rag and rinsing it under the faucet so she could dab it on my wrist. While she tended to my wounds, Fiona and Mandy were literally going back and forth trying to get words or whatever out of me. Fiona was literally losing her shit as she asked Mandy a whole bunch of questions that I didn’t know she was asking.

At one point in the conversation, Mandy had turned her head towards me, unsure if she was supposed to continue on with hers and Fiona’s conversation. I assume it was about me and seeing Mama earlier today. I didn’t want Fiona knowing all that shit, so I rapidly shook my head at her.

Of course, she didn’t pay attention to me, for after a couple more minutes of looking at me with uncertainty, she explained literally everything to Fiona right in front of me. She didn’t sign once during the conversation, and it made me wonder what she was telling her. I tried to stop her, grabbing her arm occasionally and shaking my head at her, but she just went on.

When they both stopped going back and forth, they turned to me. Fiona was saying something while Mandy interpreted her words in American Sign Language. “You did this because of your mom, Mick?” Fiona had asked me, looking a little cautious.

Oh, what the fuck? They weren’t going to stop gossiping or whatever about it, and after the visit to the cemetery today, I knew this would end up being the trending topic of the week.

My eyes fell to the now bandaged wrist right in front of me. Now the mystery lady slash Fiona’s friend was looking back at me. I didn’t feel right with all of them eyeing me like that. At one point, Mandy’s hand went to my chin as she tried to get me to look into her eyes. She knew me all too well, and the face she gave me proved it. She and I, along with Ian, knew what happened hours ago, not the other two women in the room. I had no other choice but to confess myself, because if I wasn’t going to, then either Mandy or Ian would do it for me.

I nodded slowly. Fiona just stared back at me with an understanding look on her face, but what the hell did she know? She didn’t have a dead mother or a glass-tossing father who could give twenty nine shits if his son was deaf or not. If anything, she probably had a better experience with her parents than I did.

Actually, no, she _did_ have a better experience with her parents than I did. Anything’s better than having no mother and being beaten to death by your father every day of your life.

Life wasn’t fucking fair.

* * *

“You okay?”

I saw literally everything that went down in the kitchen earlier, but I decided to leave Mickey and Mandy alone about it until the tension started to wind down a bit. Mickey and I had been separated in my room for about a while now, me working on some assignments I had left over, and Mickey on the bed eyeing the bandages on his wrist.

He seemed very upset. I’m not sure if it was from the fact that he had been caught trying to harm himself or about his mother, but that tension he built up for himself didn’t seem to go away.

Fiona once taught Debbie not to bottle in inner emotions when things got really heavy. The conversation started when Debbie got furious over a girl who didn’t contribute to a project they had to do for school, causing Debbie’s grade to drop in the class. If I was her, I’d most likely be pissed about that kind of stuff, too.

Regardless, Debbie and I were different – not in genetics, but in tactics. I learned from her and Fiona that day the way I wanted Mickey and Mandy to learn from me, that some things need to be let out.

Mickey seemed to be having a hard time trying to let out whatever he was feeling, which prompted me to initiate the conversation between us about thirty minutes after the incident. I wrote in the notebook he left behind, and Mickey read the question in it before writing back to me.

“Does it look like I’m fucking okay, Gallagher?”

Definitely not.

“Well, no, we can agree on that,” I wrote back to him, “but maybe I could find a way to help you?”

I started packing my complete homework into a folder, and Mickey had written back to me moments later. “Not a chance, unless you’re here to hand me some smokes and stay your perfect life lookin’ ass over there.”

I snorted when I read his message back. He thought my life was perfect? What the fuck did that even mean? Nothing about the Gallaghers – no matter which one you were – was perfect at all. I mean, some of us had redeeming qualities, like Debbie’s intelligence, Lip’s knowledge, and Fiona’s maternal presence. Other than that, we were a giant shit show for the whole neighborhood to see. Mickey and Mandy haven’t been here that long to witness how shit went down here, so they didn’t understand.

I wrote back to Mickey and smirked under my breath as he read my text. “You’ve gotta be shitting me if you think I have a perfect life.”

Mickey took a few moments to write before handing the book back to me. “It’s a hell of a lot better than mine, as far as I’m concerned. At least you don’t get shit for forgetting to buy some milk after leaving the spoiled milk in the fridge.”

“I get shit for different reasons; you just don’t know any of them.”

“How? Does Fiona whack you with a whip or something for not taking out the trash?”

At that point, I could feel my tummy burning up from me laughing so hard. Fiona wouldn’t ever do that to any of her siblings, no matter how critical situations got around here. I mean, that’s just the way I view her. I’m not exactly sure if she would actually do some of that shit for real.

When my laughter calmed for a moment, I continued writing to Mickey. “I was talking about Frank, asshole. You know, my dad.”

“Oh yeah, the first runner up for Worst Father of the Year.”

“It’s a shame those two bastards couldn’t be tied, you know?”

Mickey smirked when he read my comment back to him before adding something below it. “Well, Frank doesn’t kick your ass on the regular, and I don’t think you would want that shit happening to you and your brothers and sisters, now would you?”

He had a point, after all. “Yeah, right.”

Mickey looked as if he wanted to add something else, because whenever the end of his pen hovered over the paper in the notebook, his eyes darted back up to mine before making their way back to the paper. I was patient for really anything he had to say back. However, the next thing he let out stunned me to no end.

“Besides, the next time Frank puts a hand on you, I’m gonna take that knife from the kitchen and slice him with it. Fucking douche.”

His response took me by surprise. One, because I wasn’t expecting him to remember the story I told him about the time I got punched in the fucking face when Frank returned from The Alibi Room. And two, because he was actually defending me when he was the one in danger. I didn’t know what it all meant, but knowing that Mickey would have my back was overwhelming in a good way.

I gave Mickey the notebook back with my response. “You’d really do that?” After reading my question, he nodded, seeming more defensive than anything else. I took the notebook back and wrote in it again. “I mean, I’m not expecting you to kill him or anything, Mick.”

Mickey wrote back with a lop-sided grin on his face. “Aw damn, there goes my chance at playing fucking Superman.”

And I laughed again. Mickey always knew how to bring humor to the table.

* * *

We had moved on to different topics after that little spill. I handed Mickey some magazines that were lying around in the room, and we started having some weird conversation about action movies and which characters would die if they were up against each other in some fucked up cross-over. Mickey obviously went on and on about how Van Damme would knock everyone’s asses out of the park, and I thought the idea of him being a little fanatic over that type of stuff was really interesting to watch.

“So you think Van Damme could overthrow everyone from the _Fast and Furious_ franchise if he wanted to?” I teased.

“I’d pay him ten bucks to do it.” I laughed again, not over how Mickey managed to make me do so every time.

At one point during the conversation, I had grabbed a Snickers bar from out of my backpack, forgetting that I had left it there in the first place. Before I could even rip the plastic off of it, Mickey snatched the damn thing away from me. “Hey,” I pouted, and he waved the thing in my face, teasing me.

I crawled up on the bed with him, trying to reach for the damn candy in his hand, but it was hard considering how much he moved around. It led to the two of us trying to retrieve the candy bar from each other’s hands, and I was almost tired of having to beat this battle, which brought me to another tactic.

Mickey’s hand was up in the air, gripping onto the candy bar for dear life, and I began to tickle him on his side. “Wanna play now, don’t ya?” I muttered under my breath as my fingers danced all over Mickey, the touch immediately making it to his skin through the fabric. It kind of worked a little, for Mickey couldn’t keep up his demeanor any longer, and he was laughing uncontrollably.

I haven’t really gotten to know what Mickey’s voice was like before this point in getting to know him. His laugh was really infectious, as were the millions of fucking jokes he told whenever we had back and forth conversations. I was learning a lot of stuff from the past few days since we first came in contact. He wasn’t anything like I pictured him when he first stepped foot in this house; he was different. This new Mickey chose today to crawl out of his skin and meet me for the first time, and it was a very bittersweet feeling.

Until it got to be too much.

Mickey’s hands had gripped onto my forearms, the candy bar long out of the equation as we both rolled around like fucking idiots on drugs. We were both laughing from a very natural high we just experienced. However, when my face got closer to Mickey’s, the laughing seemed to die down faster than expected. And then, out of nowhere, my lips pressed against his.

I was kissing Mickey Milkovich.

The part that sucked the most was when we released each other’s lips from the hold, and we were staring at each other like deer in headlights. Mickey seemed to be the most shocked between us, and I couldn’t blame him, though I felt a little guilty for initiating something he didn’t want to initiate to begin with.

When the silence became too much for me to handle, and when the guilt started to take away any oxygen I had left, I spoke up, attempting to sign Mickey’s name for his attention. “Mickey –“

But he didn’t respond; he just pushed me off of him and walked directly out of the room, embarrassed by the scene we created.

Though I should be the one embarrassed here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a while to write, but I finally got around to completing it, thank God. Feel free to say if it sucks or not; I don't mind. By the way, if you want to ask any questions on the story, I could leave my Tumblr here for you guys, which is [right here](http://promqueen-and-hairgel.tumblr.com), if you want a peek. ;)


	14. Forgive and (Not) Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The thing I was craving the most, however, linked back to the thing I was trying to avoid. It’s been like that since I came back home the other night. First my ability to fucking sleep properly, then my smokes, and now my gun and Snickers bars. I could only imagine what the hell came next."

Everything happened too fucking fast. I just didn’t understand it nor did I believe it. A fucking dude kissed me – with his fucking lips! For what reason, I wasn’t really sure, but it freaked me the fuck out. Not just because I never gotten kissed in my life, with the exception of the cheek kisses from Mandy and Mama, but also the fact that I had gotten kissed by a _guy_.

I had been in the Gallagher’s second floor bathroom for God knows how long, pacing on the tiled floor and trying to process everything. The more times I tried to pinch my skin and slap myself in the fucking face, the more the short-lived memory of Ian’s lips on mine stained my brain.

I’m not gay. I have never been gay, and I never will be gay. No one, not even Ian Gallagher, is gonna make me think otherwise. Otherwise gets you killed in the Milkovich household, and I will travel through the four corners of the world to make sure that doesn’t happen. That pretty much contradicts every thought I had about wanting to be with Mama wherever they were holding her, but then again, being murdered by my own father only proves every shitty thing he has ever thought about me and that I have failed at being his son.

A lot of shit has been spiraling through my head for the past few minutes while I was in the bathroom, but when it down to it, I realized that I haven’t wiped the kiss off my lips yet. It was a strange fucking thought, but it was there. I don’t know what it means, though, because I don’t want to make my dad even more upset than he already is. He’ll do a lot of crazy shit to any one of his sons if he knew one of them were gay, or even thinking about it. It was no different for me, regardless of my hearing condition.

I paused in front of the mirror and glanced at the reflection that was eyeing back at me, somewhat in defeat and somewhat in curiosity. Something was suddenly wrong with me, because I felt a shiver go up my fucking back. And some force was detected on my lips where Ian had kissed me.

 _No_.

 _Fuck_ no.

 _Hell_ fucking no.

Ian’s not giving me any ideas. He’s not. He’s stuck in his own world of princes saving damsels in distress up in fucking towers and whatnot, but this is the South Side. A lot of stuff can happen to you here, and I’m not having that. I just can’t.

I took a moment to grip the sink in front of me and sighed. I think I’m stressing over this for no reason. I mean, what the hell am I even worrying about? My life ain’t tainted or anything, is it? This shit will pass by and I probably won’t remember it later on anyways. I’m gonna sit at the dinner table like a normal fucking person, watching everyone share random ass conversations and eating American-ass apple pie laid out in front of me, with Ian and Mandy on either side of me, Ian’s usually dopey fucking smirk heading my way –

I closed my eyes shut. Immediately. Tried even counting down from ten, even.

I had to get away from my own thoughts. There were other things to think about – how Mandy and I were going to get out of here alive, how we were gonna get our dad the shit he deserved for treating us wrong all these years, how we were gonna spend the rest of our lives with the absence of our mother. Relationships, let alone cheesy gestures like _that_ , didn’t play a role in this at all.

Fuck, I haven’t been so riled up and confused in my entire life. I don’t even know what the hell I’m thinking about anymore. Like, my brain is like a bee; it’ll just swarm around in twenty different areas, if agitated. Ian set something off in me, and I don’t know how to control it or whether this is meant to be a good or bad thing.

In retrospect, seeing my own blood drip from my face to the ground wasn’t much of a good thing at all, so I already knew where my grounds were coming to lie.

* * *

I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t even know _why_ I even did that. I guess I was caught up in how much fun Mickey and I were having and didn’t keep focus. Whatever it was, I probably pissed Mickey off just then, and that’s what made me regret my actions more than ever.

I had been sitting on my bed for the past three minutes, looking down at my lap in shame. I didn’t intend to piss Mickey off or anything. Really, I didn’t.

Ever since I found out that I was gay, I thought it was just as casual as being straight. You know, how those people in movies and such act like they’re best friends and whatnot in front of their friends, and they exchange…things together, just for them? Not like a romance thing – Mickey and I both already know that that kind of thing isn’t what we’re trying to achieve, if there was anything we were trying to aim towards.

And if we’re being honest, I don’t even know what I want anymore. I guess I have been feeling that a lot lately. Not just with relationships with other people, but with my life in general. After I lost my opportunity at the army, I couldn’t even think of what else I was good at or what I even wanted to do. I’ve built my life around my future as an officer, and now I can’t even have that anymore.

I looked up for a moment at the bedroom door. It had been slammed open when Mickey had ran out of the room, and it looked as if he was still in the bathroom, judging by the lack of light coming from the archway of the bathroom entrance.

God, I screwed up so much. I fucking screwed up so much, and I don’t even know how I’m gonna fix this.

What sucked was, despite my attempts of coming across how to explain anything or apologize to Mickey, the fact that the tension between us didn’t get any lighter.

When dinner came around, Mickey tried sitting as far away from me as he possibly could. He didn’t even look me in the eye or pay any attention to anything I did. Debbie was trying to ask Mandy about Mickey’s method of communication since he couldn’t speak, and I guess Mickey was trying to catch onto what the two girls were trying to get at, his hand hiding his eyes so he wouldn’t notice me from their corners.

I don’t like this. I don’t like Mickey going back to square one into our friendship because of one incident. We were getting along so well and everything, and after that kiss, the air got thicker and more uncomfortable. Breathing into it as my new neighbor was going through every length to ignore me was only making me suffocate.

* * *

I tried making every effort to get Mickey’s attention after dinner when we got some food in our system, but whenever I got to him, he tried to escape me any way he could. He’ll go sit next to Carl on the couch and watch whatever was on, help Fiona with the dishes, share a conversation with Mandy – hell, he’ll even play with Liam instead of talk to me. I started to give up when Mickey and Mandy bid the rest of the Gallaghers a farewell when they told them that they had to get back home, much to Fiona’s concern.

When everyone else started to go up for bed, I just hung out in the living room, randomly playing with a Rubik’s cube I found on the shelf. Lip once got the colors on the tiny squares to match with each other, but then Carl rearranged the order for some reason. It was a bitch for me to figure out how to put it back together, but I wasn’t really focused on that, really.

I thought about what Mickey was up to right now. I thought about whether he was probably hating me at this moment or not. I thought about whether or not he and Mandy were hiding in one of their rooms away from that fucking asshole of a father they have. My mind always raced to whatever Mickey and his sister were up to, even if I was having that sting of guilt in the back of my head for scaring him with the kiss.

What the hell was I even thinking anyway? Mickey was probably straight, for all I know. I’m not one hundred percent confident on his past experiences with relationships, but based on the reaction I got out of him after the kiss, he sure as hell didn’t seem comfortable with the whole concept of being gay.

Either that, or he grew up thinking that way. I mean, Mr. Milkovich doesn’t look like the most accepting guy in the world.

“Hey you.” I looked up from the Rubik’s cube in my hand to see Fiona come walking down the stairs and sitting at the end of the couch near my feet. “Can’t sleep?”

I shrugged, tossing the little toy in my hand. “Not really. At least not now.”

Fiona took my legs and lifted them so they could rest on her lap. “Wanna talk about it?” she asked me, automatically assuming that something was up with me.

She was right there.

And I usually didn’t have a problem telling Fiona what was going on with me. She’s my older sister, pretty much the closest thing that I was going to get to a mother regardless of Monica’s whereabouts. However, this thing going on between Mickey and I didn’t feel like something I should discuss with her. I was afraid of something, clearly, and I didn’t want it to show.

But Fiona’s my sister. I shouldn’t be afraid of her, after all.

“Do you know what it’s like to do something you regret because you think that, judging by how the other reacts, you may have fucked up?” It was as specific as I could get right now. I couldn’t jump into anything big with Fiona just yet.

But for some reason, it looked as if Fiona was asking for more details. “Did something happen at school today?”

I wanted to say yes so she won’t suspect anything between me and Mickey. I mean, it would be a minor stretch in the story, but all of it wasn’t necessarily a lie, was it? “Well…kinda, but…”

Okay, maybe I wasn’t too good at this after all.

I fumbled with the Rubik’s cube in my hand as I tried to piece everything together. “I have this friend…and I really like him as a friend, and we goof off or whatever when we see each other in school and all, but…” I gulped, because I didn’t really have a firm idea of where this was going.

I literally pinched every bit of skin on my hands before I let it out. “I kissed him.” I paused for a brief moment, looking down at the rug underneath the coffee table. “But it…kinda slipped out, you know?”

Fiona’s eyebrows shot up to her hair as she nodded, understanding. I could only glance at her for a second, though, because my heart was beating uncontrollably at the second-hand embarrassment I was experiencing within myself.

“How did he feel?” was the next question to escape Fiona’s lips.

God, I could only race back in time in my brain at the sight of Mickey jumping off the bed and literally running out of my grasp.

Well, that’s the exaggerated version of what happened, but still.

“I think he hates me.” I told Fiona, playing around with the Rubik’s cube once again.

My older sister had scooted over towards me and placed a hand on the small of my back. “People react a certain way towards certain things for a reason, Ian. I’m pretty sure your friend knew that you didn’t mean it. And if he is still upset with you, then it’s time to move on, right?”

I nodded, but I wasn’t sure if I could accept that answer. Something about Mickey really drew my attention when I started getting used to him and his sister being frequent house guests. If what Fiona was saying was true, and that Mickey was gonna hold a grudge about all of this for long periods of time, then that would mean I might not see him again – well, at least for a while.

But how long is a while, exactly?

“But…” I began lowly, biting my bottom lip nervously. “W-what if I like him?”

Fiona, deep in thought, had grabbed my hand and started to make circles on it with her thumb as she began to give the answers I needed. “Well, if you like him, then you like him. There’s no other way around it, if we’re being really honestly. But at the same time, you need to be careful with your friend. It may take a while for him to get used to what just happened and how it could affect your relationship.”

Her words were imprinted in my brain, and I read them back as if I was reading the greatest novel ever. She was right; I didn’t know Mickey for that long anyways, and I barely got a chance to learn much about him aside from his younger sister and the asshole dad. For all I knew, he could be straight, as predicted earlier, and he would probably not wanna hang out with me ever again.

Either that, or after a while, he could come back and tell me otherwise, though the odds of that happening were very slim.

“Give him some time, Ian.” Fiona encouraged me with a soft voice. “Not everyone’s wanting to rush onto the boat and make it sail.”

I closed my eyes shut and took Fiona’s advice as best as I could.

* * *

I hadn’t seen Gallagher in three days. Or maybe four. Fuck, who was even keeping count anyway?

I couldn’t go back there, man. I couldn’t go over there knowing that all of these thoughts were running through my damn head. Where the fuck they managed to come from, I wasn’t exactly sure. They had to leave, though. My Pops couldn’t suspect anything – not a damn thing at all. Like, I won’t live it down if he was having thoughts about the redhead from down the road.

The night I left the Gallagher household, I had gone to sleep, and the first thing that I dreamed of was a teenage boy with pale skin and an orange-looking head. Fucking hell, even _that_ made me sound like a fag. I was rolling around like a bitch trying to chase the thoughts away, but they kept on developing themselves the more I struggled.

Sleeping didn’t sound like the best idea for tonight, so I just got up and took a piss before I got some water and smoked a cigarette in my room. The aroma of Marlboro was all over the fucking place. It was a smell I had gotten used to while living under Dad’s roof. Literally all of his kids smoked and didn’t give two fucks about it.

I had gone through three cigarettes from a pack that I hid underneath my bed, and the nicotine had gotten well through my lungs within about an hour. I swiped them when my dad had asked for some more cigarettes the other day. They helped me relax a bit, took away my worries for a brief moment.

Until they started coming back.

And then the images of Ian started to reappear. I don’t know what the fuck it was, but it came back, and I had no way of finding out how to get rid of them.

So after about six hours of sleep, I had gone to an abandoned building the following day with a gun inside my pants and a few bucks on me. Usually when I really wanted to get something out of my head, I went to find a place where I could shoot my hand gun. Of course, I couldn’t hear the bullets eject from the device, but the force that they had on my hands were so powerful. They made me feel powerful.

The nearest abandoned building I could find was about five and a half blocks away from home. I didn’t tell Mandy where I was going because I didn’t want her to suspect anything. I was already having thoughts about whatever the hell Ian was even doing standing in front of me, and I didn’t need anyone to make anything realer than they needed to be.

When I got to the roof of the abandoned building, I saw a pile of bricks leaning against the corners. I went to pull them to the center by the edge of the building before I walked a few steps backwards, taking my gun out of my pants and aiming the thing directly ahead of me. A few shots rang out, despite my disability to hear. I could feel myself releasing so much anger and regaining so much energy from the experience.

I dug through my drawstring bag that I had on my back and took out a Snickers bar and some more of the cigarettes that I had under my bed the other night. Fuck, I couldn’t even enjoy Snickers like I used to because of what happened at the Gallagher household.

Mama knew about my addiction to those things. I’ve been eating Snickers since I was about four years old, and I never stopped since. Hell, on my fifth birthday, Mama went out and got me one of those Snickers-flavored cakes with the ice cream on the inside, and I swear, it had been the best birthday ever because of that. She always knew what I wanted.

The thing I was craving the most, however, linked back to the thing I was trying to avoid. It’s been like that since I came back home the other night. First my ability to fucking sleep properly, then my smokes, and now my gun and Snickers bars. I could only imagine what the hell came next.

That’s when I realized I was done here. No matter how long I tried to escape my thoughts, they always came back. They weren’t going anywhere any time soon, so I had no other choice but to keep them sucked in for a while.

And man, that was a bitch to do.

* * *

Day one after the kiss went by very slow and was very uneventful, with the exception of Dad throwing punches at some man that came by with some pamphlets in hand. And, like the previous night, I had another dream. Only this time around, Ian was doing more than fucking standing in my way.

Fuck. It was the damn kiss again.

Or was it? This one seemed a little slower than the real thing.

That night, I had to get up and get some alcohol in my system. Dad had a few packs of beer somewhere in the back of the kitchen, and one of them was open and filled with about thirteen cans. I grabbed three of them and brought them all back to my room, occasionally making sure Dad didn’t come out of nowhere and beat the shit out of me.

When I returned to my room, I locked my bedroom door and sat on the bed with the beer cans under my arm. I got comfortable on the bed, leaving two of the beer cans to rest beside me, and opened one of them before downing some of the contents within one swig. That’s when I felt light-headed, but the feeling went away within a couple of minutes once I continued to drink.

After the third can, I got a little dizzy, for the alcohol had gotten well into my system by now. I did nothing else but stare directly in front of me. I was bored out of my fucking mind. I really shouldn’t be since it’s late at night and I should be sleeping by now, but I can’t fucking sleep. The booze and the time of night were literally fighting against my boredom right now. It was a fucking brawl up there in my head.

The fingers on my left hand were tickling the skin on my thigh that was exposed underneath my boxers. They continued to dance in the same spot until I allowed them to move up and down the length of my inner leg. I had no idea why I was doing it, but I found some weird fucking pleasure in doing it. It was awkward.

I adjusted myself on the bed so I was laying down, my eyes facing the ceiling. My left hand snuck up towards the elastic on my boxers where the skin on my stomach was exposed just below the hem of my undershirt. Two of my fingers managed to sneak into my boxers, and at that point, I wasn’t sure if I was drunk, high, or knocked on my ass.

I bit down on my bottom lip as my left hand reached further inside my pants, and I immediately started to feel my own fucking pubic hairs from where my fingers were. Hell, even when I was drunk on three beers alone, my head feels like it’s being played. And it got even weirder when I found the length of my dick and started running my index and middle finger up and down it.

I’ve never really jerked myself off before. If I did, I was probably too young to remember and didn’t know shit about sex. I _still_ don’t know shit about sex. To this day, I have never had sex with anyone. I wasn’t even sure what I really, truly wanted, but I have always stuck with the belief that I was straight to avoid any issues involving my dad.

However, when I kissed Ian the other evening, I…

Shit, I don’t know. It felt so fucking weird and unnatural. I thought I was supposed to have this feeling with girls. The only girls that have been in my life, with the exception of some distant relatives, were Mama and Mandy, and neither of them counted since they, too, were family members. I rarely went out in public to meet anyone new since I was worried about how others would judge me.

Ian was different this time around. Despite the fact that I kinda jacked his house the day I moved here, he didn’t judge me – or at least I think he didn’t. I think that was his way of being fucking polite.

At this point in the discovery of the pleasure coming from my own damn penis, I was out of control, for I grabbed my whole damn length, gripping at it firmly for a few brief moments and allowing my head to fall back some more in my pillow behind me.

In a very strange way, it felt good. I’ve never grabbed myself like this before – or maybe that was the booze making me do it. Still, I started to wake myself up. I applied more pressure from my hand and started jerking it a little bit, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip at the feel of it all. As I became more electrified, I felt some of the precome leak out of me, which meant that I was this close to erupting.

Again, this was probably the booze talking, but I thought about what it would be like to have someone do this to me. I know I’m not supposed to be thinking this way, but I could imagine Ian from my dreams looking at me dead in the eye as I was getting closer to the edge. I couldn’t see his hands in my dream, but I saw his arm moving at a steady pace, and I knew that he was continuing. I remembered what his breath felt like on my face when we were play fighting in his room the other day, and it made me go a little faster than I had been going.

That’s when I remembered it again. I remembered that stupid fucking smile on his face when we laughed. I remembered him trying to tickle my sides and shit when I stole his fucking Snickers bar. I remembered the both of us trying to catch our breath before Ian leaned in on me. I remembered…I remembered him putting his lips onto mine and kissing me.

I shot a load into my hand. My boxers were now fucking wet, but I felt better. Better than I had previously.

Something was wrong with me. Something was seriously wrong with me. I felt sick in the head because of what I allowed to enter my brain. According to my father’s standards, I might as well be sick. I mean, I just jerked myself off at the image of my new neighbor eye fucking me with that shit-eating grin of his. What the hell could be sicker than that?

What amazed me even more was how I kept up the habit of jerking myself off for the next couple of days. I had never gone back to the Gallagher house since the kiss, yet I’m still able to pump some sperm into my hand for the next couple of nights without Mandy, Dad, or anyone else knowing what I was up to.

They really didn’t need to know what I was up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a shitty while to upload this chapter because I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with it. But thank God I uploaded it today, because writer's block is seriously becoming a pain in my ass.
> 
> Also, Noel Fisher is back working on Shameless, and I can finally breathe. :)


	15. Words Left Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I really wanted to believe that Mandy was right and that nothing serious was going on with him, but I couldn’t help but trace everything back to the day we had kissed. He was caught off guard, and I blame myself every day for that. Mickey is probably doing the same. He probably doesn’t even want to see me anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck at updating stuff, so I apologize that it took this long to update the next chapter. I also apologize if the ending sucks or anything. I just started college, and a lot of shit is hectic down here, so that's why it's taking longer to get things done. I'll still keep writing this story, though, so don't worry about that.

Mickey hasn’t been over my house for about a week and a half, and it started to worry me a little bit. I know I shouldn’t really find myself worrying about anything; it’s not like we were in any type of relationship. After all, we literally just met last week anyways.

Still, the thought of Mickey going through all types of lengths to ignore me really stung, and I really wanted to know if there was any possible way of fixing this mess.

That Thursday afternoon during lunch, Mandy and I met up in our typical spot in the school by the vending machines before we made it to the cafeteria. She seemed to be in a better mood than she had previously been. You know, after the day she and Mickey went to see her mother’s grave and all. If there was anything still there indicating Mandy’s feelings about what was going on in her family life, she had a good way of hiding it today.

It was good to see her smiling again, though. She and her brother both had very nice smiles, and it was good to see that in comparison to the fear they show whenever Mr. Milkovich was around.

“And then I had tried on this really cute black top that I found near the window displays,” Mandy went on discussing the shopping trip she had gone on with a couple of other friends from other classes. It’s been a week since Mandy has been to this school, and seemed to really adjust to it very well considering that she now has three more friends in addition to me.

Though I kinda wish – or hope – that I’m the _best_ friend.

It’s Mandy Milkovich, though. I should probably know better not to adjust the way she thinks about other people.

“This Latina chick walked past the dressing rooms and saw me with my stomach out, and she was like, ‘aw, how adorably emo of you.’ Like, she can’t talk; I can bet she has a whole stack of Lifetime movies in her home theater somewhere.” I smirked a bit at Mandy’s story because of the way she expressed herself and imitated the girl’s response. Mandy paused all of a sudden, turning to me and causing her hair to fly around behind her. “Not to mention that she had a fashion sense of an Eskimo. I mean, who wears fake fur on literally every article of clothing like that when it’s literally getting close to summer time?”

I tried my best not to laugh at the way Mandy told her story, but I couldn’t help myself. She was too fucking hilarious, and I bet that Latina chick from the store could learn a great deal from her one day, in the case that they were to ever interact again.

Mandy eyed me with a cocked eyebrow. “You laughing at me or something, Gallagher?” She was such a tease; it was ridiculous.

I snickered for a moment. “Nah, I –“ I truthfully found Mandy hilarious. She never regretted anything she has said before that made me laugh. “That was kind of badass, actually.” I grabbed a dollar and twenty-five cents from my pocket and grabbed some chips out of the vending machine before Mandy and I walked to the cafeteria, her right arm snaking through my left.

“But you’ve got to believe I was right, though, right?” Mandy continued as we found an empty table near the cafeteria entrance. “Save the layers for when there’s another Chicago blizzard or something. Besides, her look probably took about five dead dogs just to make. She clearly doesn’t give a shit about animals.”

I shrugged as I placed my lunch bag on the table, taking out a ham sandwich and a fresh, red apple. “A lot of people don’t give a shit about a lot of things. Take it from me, I know.”

Mandy inched an eyebrow on her forehead. “Frank Gallagher?”

I hummed back in response. “He’s the reason we hide the squirrel fund in the house whenever one of us earns money for it.”

“You guys really call it a _squirrel_ fund?” Mandy almost choked on the Subway sandwich she took out of her bag.

I smirked. “Fiona’s idea.”

We began eating our lunches in silence for a moment. I was about to put some of the cheesy substance from the chip bag in my mouth when Mandy spoke up again. “Has something happened between you and Mickey since he was over your place last?”

I froze. Honestly, I had no idea what was going with Mickey now that he barely came over anymore, but I know the last time he was at my house, he was so uncomfortable that he didn’t want to even _look_ at me. “What do you mean?” I asked, making sure I didn’t give away any suspicious signs.

Mandy shrugged at me. “Mickey’s been in his room for a whole fucking week.” The sound of that alone made me worried. Mickey probably wasn’t going to forgive me for what happened, and that created a large pit in my stomach when I heard the update on him from Mandy’s mouth. “The only time he came out of his room was to either piss, get some beer, or to take a shower.”

Despite my concern for Mandy’s older brother, I shook my head. “I’m not really sure. Everything was fine before.” I lied. I took a moment to think before I spoke again. “Any way to let us know what’s up?”

Mandy shook her head. “He sometimes locks his bedroom door, and since he can’t hear me knocking, it’s kind of hard to get to him when I need him.” I bit my lip nervously, looking down at the unfinished sandwich in front of me. “Don’t worry about it, though. He usually comes out of that phase after a little while.”

That response didn’t make me feel any better. I really wanted to believe that Mandy was right and that nothing serious was going on with him, but I couldn’t help but trace everything back to the day we had kissed. He was caught off guard, and I blame myself every day for that. Mickey is probably doing the same. He probably doesn’t even want to see me anymore.

But I still took Mandy’s advice and waited a while longer to see what was going to happen. Still, it was the same thing every time Mandy and I talked about him. Sometimes, things would change. Like he would leave his room or something only to get punched in the nose by their drunk father, or he would go out for the day to clear his head about some things. I never got a chance to see him in person still, and it’s been about another four days added to the week and a half since he was last at my house.

Maybe he really does hate me. Or maybe he’s trying to forget about me altogether.

Both would really sting.

* * *

It’s been two and a half weeks since I’ve seen that Gallagher kid, and it was probably for the best. It’s better than risking a black eye for even giving anyone hints as to whether I was gay or not. I might as well be buried six feet under beside Mama than be ridiculed and harassed for being a homo.

But I missed being over at the Gallagher house. It felt more like a home there than it did here. Despite being caught with six pairs of feet running throughout the damn house like it’s a preschool, they at least know how to care for each other. Mandy and I have no problem doing that, but when Dad is added into the mix, it usually gets worse from there. I think I got, like, five new scars on my skin just for forgetting Dad’s smokes again – or maybe one of them is from dropping some glass in the kitchen, I forgot.

Iggy had some porn magazines laying around in the bathroom, and I usually read those while jerking off a little to ensure that I would be over the kiss that Ian gave me the last time I was at his house. Half the time, it didn’t fucking work. Something about a girl’s tits didn’t do the trick for me.

Playing violent video games Colin usually brought over did the trick a little better. Sometimes I would go back to the abandoned building to shoot more bullets or join my brothers on a run somewhere to make space in my mind, and by the time day ten or eleven rolled around, all of the thoughts of Gallagher were long out of my head.

Until Mandy had to ruin it.

And I have no fucking idea what triggered her to getting me to talk to Ian, but it just happened. I was in my room smoking a cigarette, bored off my ass, and she barged in all of a sudden with a scowl on her face. She started signing to me. “What the fuck’s been up with you, huh?”

I didn’t falter, really. I just signed back: “The fuck are you talking about?”

“Ian keeps asking about you at school,” Mandy replied, and I swear I could have clocked her in the face by now if she wasn’t my sister. “You haven’t been at his house in about two weeks, and you’re worrying the shit out of him."

Shit.

Ian’s thinking about me and shit now. That’s the thing that’s making it harder for me to forget about the fucker in the first place, especially when Mandy’s telling me about him. I get it, I probably freaked him out when I just walked out like that, but I can’t risk the strength I have left for someone I literally just met. It’s not supposed to work that way.

When she saw me shrug and place the cigarette back in my mouth, Mandy signed to me again. “Just talk to him, Mickey. You don’t even have to go to their house, if you don’t want to. I have his number; you could at least try texting him or something.”

While Mandy was right, in a sense, she couldn’t know what had been going down before I stopped seeing the redhead. She couldn’t. It was too fucking embarrassing to tell anyone, not to mention that I couldn’t trust anyone with details about mine and Ian’s complicated…whatever the fuck this is. It’s supposed to be a friendship, but he clearly wiped those boundaries away ages ago.

So I just signed back to her. “He’s not my fucking problem, Mandy.” That was true to an extent, but he was the reason that I’m having problems here. So yeah, he is kind of my fucking problem.

Mandy eyed me furiously before reaching out to snatch the cigarette out of my mouth before signing to me again. “You know what? Nothing’s ever your problem. For once, make something your problem.” And with that, she was out of the room completely.

Okay, maybe she was right – just a little. I haven’t talked with the guy in a while, and he has no fucking idea on what’s going on at my end of the spectrum or whatever. It wouldn’t hurt to give him the heads up on what’s going on in terms of our relationship and all of that.

Then again, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to get involved with the guy again or not. I’m still scared shitless about what Dad will do if he found out that he had a gay son in his family. I remembered Mama telling me one time that one of her sisters got cut off by him for being a dyke. She never came to any of our family reunions or anything because she was too uncomfortable around Dad, and I wouldn’t blame her, honestly. Even if I was gay – I’m still kinda doubting it – I would wanna be gay and far away from Dad as possible.

Unfortunately, I can’t have that. I’m stuck in this damn house forever. And even if I tried to leave now after confessing that I could possibly be gay, I wouldn’t be able to get far away enough to escape Dad’s grasp. He’ll break my neck before I even get out the door.

I could honestly praise Mama’s sister for not surrendering to any injuries Dad would have placed on her. I could learn a few things from her.

* * *

Lip and I were at the kitchen table with papers scattered all over the fucking place. Lip had a test to take sometime tomorrow afternoon, and he was trying to make sure he had everything down. In the process, he was also helping me with some of my Math homework since I suck so much at it.

I knew Lip could tell off the bat, because we had been going over the same section of problems for about thirty minutes already, and I still wasn’t getting it. “No, man. You have to do the reciprocal of two thirds before you multiply,” Lip reminded me again after I had missed that step the fourth time. “And once you replace x with the fraction you get as your answer, you have to multiply the exponents again.”

I started to get frustrated, for my hands started running through my hair in frustration. “What the hell’s the point in doing all of that?” I complained.

Lip huffed out a laugh. “Don’t ask me; blame the mathematicians.”

Yeah, that definitely sounded like the better route to go in at this point.

We continued going over everything to the point where my brain was almost fried. Debbie and Fiona were at the burners preparing something for dinner when Debbie spoke up. “How come Mickey doesn’t come over anymore?”

If that didn’t ruin my concentration process even further, I don’t know what can.

Fiona took a moment to hum in wonder. “I’m not sure,” she told Debbie before addressing me. “You know what’s up with him, Ian?”

“Not sure. Mandy doesn’t know, either, but she makes an effort to try to reach out to him.” I kept it as simple as possible, because no one needed to know what happened two weeks prior to today, let alone my family and the younger sister of the guy I kissed before he left here.

I tried figuring out one of the critical thinking questions on the page I was stuck on when I overheard Debbie speaking to Fiona again. “Is he ever gonna come back over?” she asked her, with a hint of worry in her voice. “Maybe we could go over to the Milkovich house and visit him or something.”

As much as I appreciated Debbie’s devotion to making the Mickey situation work out, two things were spinning in my head: one, her bringing him up in general just made me feel even guiltier than I had been before; and two, just her idea of going over there was a very bad one. It had good intentions, but knowing Mickey’s dad, it wasn’t going to be a very great visit.

And I knew Fiona knew that as well, because she tried letting down Debbie as easily as possible as she stirred the green beans in the pot. “I don’t think that’s a really good plan, Debs.”

“Why not?” my younger sister asked.

Fiona shrugged. “Things are just complicated over there. It’s kind of hard to explain.” I could honestly thank Fiona for that, because I wouldn’t want to suffer hearing about Mickey and Mandy’s home life like I did when they first came in the neighborhood.

Moments later, Fiona had announced that the food was ready. Lip and I took all of our papers off the table and placed them back in our backpacks before taking them upstairs. Lip had left our room to go wash up, leaving me alone in the bedroom, checking to see if my phone was charged up.

When I took it off its charger, I glanced at the screen before going to my contacts and finding Mandy’s name on the list. A part of me wanted to let Mandy know that my family was starting to get affected by all of this just to get Mickey’s attention somehow. However, I wasn’t even sure if that would work on Mickey. Even if he felt anything towards it, he’d still be ignoring me, most likely.

So I turned my screen off and threw my phone on the bed before walking towards the bedroom door, checking to see if Lip was out of the bathroom. Before I got a chance to even leave the room, though, I heard my phone go off on the bed, which took me by surprise. Usually it was either Fiona, Lip, or Mandy texting me about something, but the former two were downstairs with Debbie, Carl, and Liam. That left Mandy.

However, when I checked the text message on my phone, it was an unknown number. So it couldn’t have been Mandy.

And if it wasn’t Mandy, then who the hell was it?

I opened the message and read it. “Hey,” was all it said, and I had no idea if this was some type of joke or not.

So I texted the number back. “Who is this?” I texted back, and I waited a couple of seconds before I got a message back. When I read it, I swear my stomach was doing somersaults.

“It’s Mickey. Mandy gave me your number.”

For the rest of the night, for some reason, I couldn’t contain my excitement knowing that Mickey was reaching out to me again. It was going to take a little while longer until I got the chance to physically see him again, but this was just as good, right?

Our conversations weren’t on anything specific, nor did we address the kiss from weeks prior; Mickey just casually threw out some random things his dad was up to and I attempted at bringing some light humor in the conversation. He kind of needed it after being stuck in that house for God knows how long. I remember Carl being up to some crazy shit, so we discussed that for a bit, with Mickey laughing a bit, praising Carl’s juvenile delinquency.

As much as I was enjoying this, for some reason, it wasn’t enough for me. I preferred to see Mickey rather than just text him about what’s going on between each other’s houses and all of that. I wanted to know if he was coping from the issues with his dad or if he was even safe over there, which I already knew from the top of my head that he wasn’t. Neither Mickey nor Mandy were safe in that house, but Mickey’s been there for about two weeks without letting anyone know what was going on, and from the information I got today, it didn’t fully fill in the puzzle like I expected it to.

I stared at my phone screen – maybe a bit longer than I expected – and then started typing Mickey a message. “Debbie misses you. Fiona misses you, too.” While it was true, a part of me wondered whether I was even telling the truth or not.

Mickey replied a few seconds later. “They do?”

“Yeah. They wanted to see you again.”

Mickey took a while to respond, and that usually indicated his uncertainty, ultimately making my stomach turn into knots. I usually wasn’t this nervous when it came to meeting new people, but when it came to Mickey…

I’m not really sure. It was all fresh and new to me.

Some gray dots appeared on my screen, my phone letting me know that Mickey was typing on the other line. Finally, he submitted his message. “Can I come over tomorrow?”

At that was all it took for me to sigh with relief. “Any time you want.”

* * *

I would be lying right now if I said I wasn’t fucking nervous or anything, because I actually was. I’m probably a stranger to the other Gallaghers still, so when Ian brought up Debbie and Fiona missing me, I was actually fucking laughing my ass off. And then – and only then – did Ian Gallagher leave an implied, open invitation for me to come back over to the Gallagher residence.

This wasn’t about the other Gallaghers. This was about us.

And if we’re being one hundred percent honest, after the shit that went down a couple of weeks ago, it honestly needed to be discussed again sometime sooner or later before people like Mandy or my dad started taking notice of it.

Then again, this could only get more dangerous, could it? It’s not like I don’t want to tell Ian how I felt about the kiss, or the aftermath of it anyways, but with Dad lurking behind my back 24/7, I’m not sure how clear the coast really is. Before – and even now – I wasn’t interested in looking into intimate shit like that, nor am I interested in blurring the fucking lines between me and Ian. I have no problem being his friend, though, because other than Mandy, he’s pretty much the only friend I have since I have the social life of a house cat.

But at what cost?

Ian told me I could swing by his house any time I wanted to. There is a likelihood of Mandy being over there because she and I both know damn well that neither one of us like staying back at home with that fucking asshat of a father while he shouts demands at us. However, I don’t want her finding shit out.

Well, if there was even shit to find out.

I pondered over it for a moment before I sent Ian a response text. “Fine. Seven.” It was better to say anything than to leave him hanging, though in my case, it’s kinda too late for that.

He didn’t take too long to text me back. “Cool.” He was hiding his excitement or whatever the fuck it as, and he didn’t even have to tell me through a fucking text or even face to face for me to know that. I _was_ kind of an asshole for leaving him hanging like that in the first place, so I kind of owe it to him. That wasn’t stopping me from being any less nervous, though, and I felt myself almost shitting myself for wondering what would happen if something between Ian and I really did happen. What would Mandy say? And would Dad find out, and through me or Mandy?

Ian is going to want to bring it up when I come over to see him, so I might as well brace myself for whatever. Maybe he wanted to kiss me again or something. That’s probably why he wants me over, just to repeat what happened a couple of weeks ago but _expected_ this time. I should probably brace myself for when that happens, too, just in case.

Only bracing myself for _that_ specifically just brought up thoughts I previously tried to shift out of my head since the last time I was at the Gallagher house.

This sounded like a bad idea now, but there’s no going back either way.

* * *

I didn’t really have a reason to get dressed or anything this early in the day, unless I went out to the empty lot to shoot some bullets at the stray brick wall or some shit. I wasn’t planning on doing that today, though. The anxiety from Ian’s invitation to come back to the Gallagher house was overcoming me for most of the day, which basically prompted me to do a lot of shit differently than I had been doing for the past two and a half weeks.

Mandy was still taking her shower and getting ready to head over to school and stuff, and I just sat on my bed waiting for her to finish up while I sat alone in my room with my thoughts. Most of my thoughts consisted of what Ian’s thoughts were, really. Like, how long has he been thinking about me and shit? Is he thinking about me right now? Or is he like me and trying to push the thoughts out of his head?

Fuck, thinking about Ian all day made me all paranoid and shit.

The shower had been turned off about a few seconds ago, and I stood up off my bed to wait for Mandy to clothe herself. When she came out of the bathroom, I blocked her path and signed to her. “I need to ask you something.”

Mandy’s eyebrows shot up, and it’s shocking how similar her features are to mine. “Sure, what’s up?”

I bit my lip for a moment before looking her dead in the eye. Might as well get it over with while she’s still here. “You heading to Gallagher’s place today?”


	16. I Kissed a Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mickey was on a search for some answers. The break he took from coming over, that was to take a break to sort out all the questions he had about this. He seemed to have so many in his back pocket since he stopped seeing me. I wasn’t sure if I was going to answer them all in one day or even in one hour, but I wanted to answer most of them to the best of my abilities."

The school day went by faster than I thought it would, but that was mostly because the fact that Mickey would be coming back over was making me nervous throughout most of the day. I haven’t even thought about what I would even say to him when we would see each other again. I made a mental note to not rush into what he thought about when it came to the kiss and all that, but what the hell else was I supposed to say? Like, should I start everything off with fucking elevator talk?

Mandy and I walked home, and Lip eventually joined us after leaving his girlfriend to her friends on the front steps. I couldn’t hold it in any longer, and I immediately spoke up to Mandy. “Thanks.”

Mandy eyed me with a confused look on his face. “For what?”

“For getting Mickey to speak again.”

Mandy chuckled. “I feel like he did that on his own, but I sure as hell put some sense in him, that’s for sure.” There was a beat in the conversation before Mandy spoke again. “Mickey told me he wanted to come over, and that’s how I knew I did something right,” she added with a wink at me.

“Mickey’s coming back over?” Lip spoke, overhearing our conversation and lighting a cigarette in between his fingers. He took a drag of it before handing the stick over to me.

“It took him long enough,” Mandy replied, walking ahead of me and Lip when she noticed a familiar shadow up ahead of her. She wrapped her arms around Mickey when she found him waiting for her. The earlier conversation about Mickey was dropped when the siblings started signing to each other.

I bit the inside of my cheek at the sight of Mickey standing there. It was still unbelievable that he actually agreed to come out of the house and follow us home, but the actual sight of him brought my attention. Like – just _him_ actually being here, first of all – I can’t believe it happened. He also had a few new bruises on his neck and a tiny scratch on his left arm, but it wasn’t too bad. His dad could have done worse to him; I’m surprised yet relieved that this was it.

“Hey. Mickey.” Lip greeted with a wave in his direction, and Mickey casually waved back. Mickey took one glance at me and just nodded. I understood that, with the atmosphere we’re both in right now, this was probably the most subtle it could get and that neither one of us would wanna take it any further, so I nodded back.

The four of us walked back to our house, with Lip occasionally bringing up a conversation about his girlfriend and Mandy throwing in a few cents, and Mickey nervously stealing glances from me. He hasn’t seen me in a while, and I haven’t, either, and this makes the tension ultimately understandable. However, the look Mickey was giving me now just made me feel guilty all over again.

Lip opened the front door of our house, and I followed him inside, with Mandy and Mickey following close behind. Once the front door was shut, Debbie placed Liam’s snack food in front of him and rushed into the living room where the Milkovich siblings were standing.

“Mickey,” Debbie spoke to him. “You came back.” Lucky for Mickey, he could read words easily, and he nodded in Debbie’s direction with a nervous smile.

I wasn’t lying to him when I said Debbie missed him after all.

“Fiona and I were gonna prepare snacks and stuff for movie night, if you wanted to stay and help.” Debbie offered to both Mickey and Mandy, with Mandy signing Debbie’s words back to Mickey.

Mandy shrugged. “Sounds fun.” She responded to Debbie before she signed to Mickey. “You in?” Mickey shrugged before he nodded, and Debbie’s eyes lit up immediately before taking their hands and dragging them into the kitchen. I smirked at the sight before taking my stuff upstairs where Lip had gone to start on his Calculus assignments.

About an hour and a half passed before Fiona came home from work at Patsy’s Pies, and that was when Debbie came up to our room to invite us downstairs. Lip and I were done with about most of what we had lying around, so we gave up on the rest to explore the mess that was made in the kitchen.

Liam was alone, coloring on some of the coloring sheets Debbie got him, and Debbie and Mandy were taking out snacks and stuff out of the coupboards. Mickey was off on the side, laughing to some of the jokes Mandy and Carl were making.

Mickey looked as if he forgot everything that happened since he was here last. After his reaction to the kiss that occurred a couple of weeks ago, the sight of Mickey’s smile felt a little reassuring, to say the least. Reassuring in that things could go along at a safer pace. That’s how I hoped this visit will turn out, at least. Last time he was here, he didn’t even feel that it was safe to be in the same room with me, and I didn’t want to imply that at all.

Maybe family night with the Milkoviches could change a couple of things.

* * *

As it got later and later, Debbie and Fiona started setting out games and stuff out throughout the living room. Kevin and Veronica came over shortly with some bottles of champagne. The night was doing very well so far. Carl and Lip started playing _Halo_ in front of the television, and Kev joined Mandy and Debbie at the kitchen table to play Monopoly while Vee and Fiona were having their usual chat at the kitchen counter. Liam joined the guys in the living room but was mostly playing with the blocks by his playpen.

The only thing that was missing was Mickey.

I left the party scene for a moment to go upstairs and check on him. My bedroom door was open, and I could see him sitting on the bed, looking down at his phone screen. I hesitated going inside the room at first because I didn’t want to scare him off or anything, but I knew if I didn’t, I was probably gonna regret leaving him alone with no one to tend to him.

So I went in. To my surprise, he didn’t flinch or anything when he saw me; his eyes just averted back to his iPhone screen. I didn’t want to touch him or anything because he was in his comfort zone right now, and it wouldn’t be right if I took advantage of that.

But he wasn’t going to hear or understand me if I just stood in front of him like an idiot.

As carefully as I could, I sat on the edge of my bed, nervously looking over at him and waiting for him to respond to any contact. Mickey was done tapping on his phone screen, and he gazed at me for a moment before I spoke. I still didn’t know that much sign language, so I had to stick with talking to him through the notebook we shared before.

I took a moment to write before handing the notebook back to Mickey. “You don’t wanna join the others downstairs?”

Mickey placed his phone down beside him and wrote something down before handing it back to me. “I’m good.”

“You sure? It’s family game night.”

“I think I know what I’m fucking sure of, Gallagher.” I think I triggered something in him for his reply to come off as annoyed, so I decided to back off a bit when he returned to his phone.

This was probably my only chance to do this. This was probably my only chance to appropriately discuss what previously happened, but Mickey seemed annoyed judging by the response he gave me in the notebook, so I wasn’t sure how I wanted to approach this at all. But I had so many questions about what was running through Mickey’s mind right now. Did he like the kiss? Did he hate it? Does he like _me_ – or even _hate_ me at all?

I was deep into my own thoughts when I felt Mickey snatch the notebook away from me, scribbling something down. “I can feel you fucking staring, you know.”

“Sorry. It’s just…”

Shit. There was no going back from this. I continued writing. “I’m just curious as to wondering what was up with you.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“I know I made you uncomfortable the last time you were here, and it wasn’t my place to do such a thing, so I wanted to hear it from you so I could properly apologize.”

When Mickey read my words, the features on his face softened a bit, replacing them with some nervous undertones. I could secretly tell that he was dreading this part of the visit, and to be perfectly honestly, I was a bit, too. For the past twenty four hours, I had been wondering how Mickey would take all of this, and it’s clear from the look on his face that he’s barely holding onto the thin string he has to compose himself properly.

It took a while, but he eventually wrote back. “Yeah. I was uncomfortable, actually. You scared the shit out of me, man.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Mickey.”

Mickey nodded, sinking his head a bit so his eyes were trained back to his phone. He didn’t look too comfortable after our exchange, but he looked okay enough to leave the past where it’s supposed to stay.

I placed the notebook on my desk and started to get up when I felt Mickey’s hand grip onto my arm. Confused, I whirled around in his direction. Mickey placed his phone on the bed and reached for the notebook and pen on the desk. When he got comfortable in his seat, the anxiety was already building back up in him again. I could tell from the way he was looking from me to the notebook and back at me again. He occasionally bit his lip, the resulting flesh getting redder from the force his teeth put on it, and when he started writing, it only made me more nervous.

It was when he finished writing and showed me the notebook, my eyeballs nearly left their sockets. “Can I kiss you?”

Twenty four hours of trying to figure out how to approach the issue between us, and out of all the directions this could have gone, this was definitely the least anticipated out of all of them. I still wasn’t fucking believing it when I bit the inside of my cheek and pinched the skin on top of my left hand. No matter what I did, when I looked ahead, Mickey still sat there, serious as ever but with a jittery exterior.

And of course, dumb old me is still standing here like a fucking idiot because I have no idea what I should even say here.

Mickey doesn’t know, either, and it’s messing with my fucking brain.

I gulped for a moment before making an attempt to sign back to him, despite the fact that my sign language still needs work. “You,” I began slowly, “want to… _kiss_ me?” And he nodded – carefully, but God, he still _nodded_.

Holy shit. Mickey Milkovich wanted to kiss me.

I wasn’t sure if I was either ecstatic or apprehensive about this. Maybe both. It’s not like Mickey wanted to not see me for the rest of his life, so one problem had already been solved there. And judging by the way he asked me if he could kiss me, he wasn’t as straight as I assumed he was before.

All I thought about now was…well, why? Why did Mickey want to kiss me? Why, after weeks of not coming over, did he just now make this decision? What’s he even trying to prove here?

I licked my lips and watched Mickey sink his head down again. His behavior was suggesting something, and it took me a while to think it over. A part of me had an idea, but I wasn’t sure on how accurate I really was. I guess I’ll never really know what Mickey’s real intentions were until he was ready to confess them.

My feet shuffled on the floor a little bit before I made my way over towards him again, sitting on the edge of my bed and placing the notebook back on my desk again. Mickey watched my every move like he was expecting some explosives to blow up out of my skull. I swallowed a huge lump in my throat before I scooted a bit closer to the dark-haired guy in front of me.

At that moment, we were just staring at each other. It felt so uncomfortable. The last time I made a move on Mickey to kiss him, I literally scared the shit out of him and let him make his exit. What the hell was he going to do when I kiss him now?

As I got a few centimeters close to his face, Mickey’s breath hitched a bit, and his mouth slowly opened up, from either his nerves getting the better of him or from me bringing my lips closer to his. I wasn’t sure which. I felt my lips part the closer I got, and all of this was just a clusterfuck of nerves fucking with the both of us, if we’re being really honest here.

I stopped for a moment. Mickey was looking at my lips, and I took a brief moment to look at his. They looked soft and plump, as weird as it sounds. I never really thought about it the last time I kissed him, but his lips…kinda felt good? I don’t know; I guess I was struck with too much guilt to even think about Mickey’s physical features.

Like how big his cheeks got when his smile shone too bright. Or how his smile turned into a laugh when I tickled him when we were fighting over the Snickers bar.

Fuck.

I closed the gap in between our faces and put my lips on his. About a nanosecond into the kiss, I lingered there to get a good feeling of Mickey’s mouth before I made any move to deepen the kiss. Before I got a chance to do that, however, Mickey initiated the movement on our lips and then broke us apart, a small smacking sound escaping his lips.

Sure, I understood how scared he probably was, but I was stunned that he kissed back. Mickey was so new to all of this, excluding the flashback to two weeks prior. It amazed me in more ways than one.

Mickey looked at me with the same shy expression he gave me earlier, leaning back slightly with his hands behind him. He pinched his lips together, most likely to take in what happened just now. I looked down for a moment and noticed that his heart was rapidly beating underneath the gray shirt he slipped on. I couldn’t blame him for that.

He looked back at me, expressionless but his heart still beating. The way he slightly scooted over to me felt like an invitation for me to kiss him again, but I wasn’t sure if I should even do anything yet, for this was still a lot for him to process.

Mickey bit his bottom lip one more time before he nervously signed to me again. I didn’t understand it at first, so he pointed to the notebook that was previously abandoned on the desk at the foot of my bed. I grabbed it, as well as the pen, and gave them to Mickey, and he started writing something down on the half-filled sheet. “I never kissed anyone before.”

This was news to me. All this time, I thought he had kissed girls before me. For the weeks that have passed, I always assumed that he knew that he was straight and maybe even considered the possibility of homosexuality before deciding that it wasn’t for him.

In retrospect, everyone’s not exactly like that. Well, it’s what I learned from people like Fiona and Monica, at least.

“Really?” I mouthed to him, and he nodded back.

“I don’t know if I liked it or not.”

I nodded, because no one was really sure what they liked when it came to their own sexualities, especially when one’s like Mickey and never kissed anyone before. I took the notebook and pen from him and wrote him a message back. “My first kiss was from a girl in the fourth grade.”

Mickey frowned a bit at the note before looking up at me and signing, “Really?”

I nodded and continued to write. “Didn’t know whether I liked it or not, either, but to be fair, I was only a little kid. Somewhere around the eighth grade, I guess you could say that I was more sure of myself. There was no more kissing girls after that, though.”

Mickey seemed to understand, but a part of him felt unsteady with the information that was being given to him. Whether it was about the fact that I kissed someone else before in general or that I kissed a girl when I was that young, I’m not sure.

He reached for the notebook, and I gave it back, waiting for him to scribble something else down underneath my note. He lingered back a bit, glancing back at me before finishing up, and I read what he wrote. “How did you know you were gay?”

Mickey was on a search for some answers. The break he took from coming over, that was to take a break to sort out all the questions he had about this. He seemed to have so many in his back pocket since he stopped seeing me. I wasn’t sure if I was going to answer them all in one day or even in one hour, but I wanted to answer most of them to the best of my abilities.

“My first boy kiss was from a guy named Travis from my art class before we graduated. Fiona took me to a party, and all of the kids were playing some stupid _Seven Minutes in Heaven_ game in the girl’s bedroom closet. To this day, they still don’t know if I really kissed him or not since the closet door was closed, and we basically played it off like nothing happened.”

Mickey was silent after that. He looked a little worried, and it was clear that it was because he was trying to question his own sexuality. I don’t think he would have asked to kiss me or interview me about my past physical relationships if he wasn’t. And I knew then and there that I was right, because he started to take the notebook and write something underneath my handwriting. “I don’t know if I’m…” He never finished the sentence, but he didn’t have to.

“Gay?” Mickey nodded, and I started writing again. “What did you think about the kiss then?”

“I’m not sure. I never did this shit before,” Mickey replied. When I finished reading, he took the notebook back and wrote some more. “It felt…okay? I guess?” I read it again. I glanced up for a moment, and Mickey seemed to be unsure about what he wanted to write next.

After a few seconds, he grabbed the notebook again and wrote something else. “I don’t know if I want to be gay, either.”

Perplexed, I wrote a response message. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t know if I should be calling myself the guy that secretly likes another dude’s mouth on me behind my dad’s back.”

“Your dad?”

Mickey nodded. “If Dad found out that I was gay, he would kill me himself. Not a damn regret in the world. And he literally bashes anyone else who is.”

The mention of Mickey’s dad made my blood boil. My ears were burning at the sight of him being brought into the conversation. I hated that man so much and everything he was willing to do to other people, let alone his own kids, for his own being. It made so much sense why Mickey left the other day and why he was so nervous about kissing me now.

I was kinda iffy about what I wanted to tell Mickey, but I also felt that it was right. “Your sexuality is a part of you. Whether you like it or not, you can’t change it like it’s a shirt with a ketchup stain.”

“Don’t you get it, Ian?” Mickey wrote back. “I can only be myself to his standards for as long as I’m under his roof. Disobey him, and he’ll beat the shit out of you. I literally got kicked repetitively in the waist for ordering Chinese food instead of pizza. And God forbid, I’m not good enough to get out of the house and from underneath his roof.”

It made me sad to see Mickey writing all of this to me. His self-hatred was coming out, and it started because of everything his father has said and done to him. I briefly remembered everything he and Mandy told me about their mother as well, and from all of that alone, it felt like Mickey hasn’t felt real love for himself in years. He’s hated himself for _years_ , for fuck’s sakes, all because of what his dad did.

Mickey gulped a huge lump in his throat that didn’t look like it was going to disappear anytime soon. I reached my hand out to his knee to grab his attention. I wrote a message back to Mickey for him to read. “Your dad is a real piece of shit – not just for hitting you and treating you like a slave, but for not letting you be yourself. He doesn’t understand what you want because he never got the chance to really know you as his son.”

Mickey didn’t make a move to write anything in response, so I continued on. “I’m not sure if it really matters what I think to you, but do you wanna know what I think? I would accept you if you were a fucking mouse.” Mickey snickered a bit, and I genuinely smiled back. “Don’t hate yourself because your dad doesn’t appreciate you.”

After a moment, Mickey nodded before slowly looking up at me. Somehow, he looked so small, and I started getting the idea that putting those words in his head started to hit somewhere sensitive. Mickey amazed me. On the outside, he acted like he didn’t give a shit about anyone and would probably bust someone’s kneecaps, but on the inside, he’s very vulnerable, especially when someone mentioned anything close to his dad or Mickey sleeping under the same roof as him.

I timidly grabbed his attention again, showing him the note I wrote on the sheet of paper. “Can I kiss you?” He read over it for a moment, most likely trying to decide whether this was a good idea or not, and nodded.

We faced each other again, and I sucked in some oxygen through my nostrils. Mickey’s fingers were slightly touching each other as they rested on his lap in front of me. He started getting nervous again, and after the conversation between us, I couldn’t help but agree. I leaned in some, and Mickey timidly followed my movements. When our noses touched, causing a spark to shoot through our skin, I brought my hand up to Mickey’s face and held it there when I pressed my lips up against his. I didn’t deepen the kiss too much; just enough so we could slowly start to get into it. Mickey reciprocated a little.

My tongue slipped in between Mickey’s lips for a moment, and I immediately felt Mickey stiffen and back away all of a sudden. I placed my hands on his upper arms and rubbed them a bit to calm him down. “It’s okay, Mick. It’s okay. See?” I stuck my tongue out a little to remind him that it was just my tongue, and he nodded, still frightened by the escalation in our make-out session.

If that’s what one would call it, at least.

I stopped for a moment to give Mickey time to collect himself, and I leaned back in, rubbing Mickey’s right arm whenever I felt him backing away. My lips landed on his again, and we started to kiss again. He started to relax into it so far. I stuck my tongue slowly inside his mouth again, and while he stiffened a bit at the contact, he invited me in, and my tongue eventually found his.

Mickey’s inhales were really sharp. He was slowly but definitely adjusting to this better than I thought. We stopped for a brief moment, Mickey’s mouth opening against mine to gather some air. My eyes glanced down and noticed that he was gripping very hard onto his left leg, and I could briefly see his member poking out of his jeans.

I could tell he was already liking this.

I could tell from the note he wrote back to me. “It felt…kind of good.” I smiled at him, and Mickey nervously smiled back before he leaned in on me and gave me another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I felt that this chapter was better than the last (I'm being biased here; ignore me). What do you guys think?


	17. Trigger Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I thought that all of the anger I have bottled up for my dad would simmer down once I got older, but shit like this just decided to fire the flames back up again. It’s not as bad as it was before, but the memory was as big as the fire that was burning in my stomach and in my head."

Kissing Mickey made me feel high. Kissing Mickey gave off the feeling of smoking the biggest cigar ever and not even giving a shit about what’s going on around you because the best thing you could be absorbed in was right there under your nose. It was blissful – passionate, if you will.

Though I would never admit that to Mickey out loud since the air still reeked of our conversation we had moments ago.

But…we kissed still. We fucking kissed. Not the kind of kiss that mothers give their kids when they’re tucking them in for bed – the kind of kisses people see in those cheesy ass romantic comedies where they’re literally floating on a cloud in the center of the room. Moments like this weren’t going to last very long, but for the duration of the time Mickey and I had in my room just then, we both seemed to have enjoyed it while it still lasts.

When we both came down from our kissing highs, we joined the rest of the Gallaghers and Mandy downstairs where family game night resumed. The board games were abandoned on the kitchen table, the TV was turned off, and everyone had split up into two groups on two different sides of the room.

Fiona beckoned me and Mickey over when we walked in. “Come on, guys. We’re playing charades. Winning team chooses to either play another group game or a movie.”

I went to join Fiona, Debbie, Lip, and Veronica on their team, and Mickey joined Carl, Kevin, and Mandy on their team. When I relaxed on the couch beside Debbie, she moaned and started to make a comment. “Fiona, make sure you count the tallies right, because I don’t want to spend the last hour of the night watching the lame stuff that Carl has in his DVD collection.”

Carl leaned forward in his seat between Mandy and Kevin and frowned. “Well no one’s gonna have a ball getting brainwashed in your lovey-dovey crap.”

“Does it make you feel unfortunate about the fact that you’re never going to have a girlfriend for the rest of your life?”

“I _had_ a girlfriend.”

“One that never stuck around.”

I had to hold in my snickers so Debs and Carl wouldn’t notice, but the thought of the two of them arguing over relationships made things more interesting, specifically because they’re both still young and they have no idea on what their lives are gonna be like later on. Mandy was holding in giggles from afar, from what I noticed in front of me, but probably because of the fact that Debbie treated Carl’s life.

Soon after Fiona calmed the younger siblings down, team captains were chosen: Vee for our team, and Mandy for the other team. They each rolled die Fiona found in one of Debbie’s old board games to see who would go first. With a score of eleven to seven, Mandy’s team was first up.

“Okay, so you have sixty seconds to act out whatever Fiona writes on one of the index cards,” Lip explained as Fiona was thinking up random words on the side, and Mandy was signing Lip’s words to Mickey. “At least one person from your group has to speak up before the other people in the other group and guess what word you’re trying to act out. If they don’t guess in time, then the other team is allowed to guess.”

“And if no one guesses?” Mandy asked.

Lip shrugs. “I kinda thought that was obvious.”

“You’d be surprised at what things in life seem obvious.” I added, earning a smirk from Mandy and a middle finger from Lip.

“When the person from said group answers correctly, they get to go next.” Lip finally added.

Fiona handed the first card to Mandy and she read it over briefly before the time started. Once it did, I leaned back and allowed her to entertain me as she pretended to carry something heavy.

“Box?” Kevin began. “Moving in? Bricks?”

Veronica glanced over at her husband incredulously. “Now how in the hell do you expect that to be bricks?” I snickered. Kevin had a very imaginative mind space.

“You ever try to build a house without construction vehicles?” Kevin explained, and Vee rolled her eyes, rubbing her forehead to rid the migraine she just received. “That kind of stuff is not a one-man job, Vee. And even if it isn’t, you can get a broken back.”

Vee ignored him and glanced back in Mandy’s direction. This time, she pretended to drop said heavy object on her foot, making her hop on one foot to attempt to heal the other.

“Stub a toe?” Carl asked, and Mandy pointed in his direction. He grinned, and Mickey reached out a hand and high-fived the younger boy.

Debbie groaned beside me. “This had better be good.”

I smiled at her before rubbing her arm. “We’re not losing tonight, Debs. This is your night, no matter what anyone says.” I could have been right or wrong, really. Tonight, I was actually optimistic about a lot of things, thanks to a little energy boost from moments ago. Plus, no one deserved to go to bed angry.

Better yet, no one _should_.

After receiving a card from Fiona, Carl stepped up to Debbie. “Watch and learn from the master.” I laughed silently before Carl placed his card in his pocket and crept around the perimeter of the living room.

“Tip toe.” Veronica started.

“Being a wuss.” Debbie commented just to get Carl’s attention. He looked back, offended, and then went back to acting. He peaked under a few of Liam’s coloring books on the table as if he was looking for something. He grabbed an imaginary object and placed it in his other pocket.

“Robbery!” Mandy shouted.

“Stealing money,” I spoke.

“Grabbing pocket change off the dresser.” Kevin spoke, and a few people in the room, preferably Fiona and Vee, started laughing out loud.

I laughed for a brief while until I caught sight of Mickey trying to grab my attention. He pointed to Carl from where he sat, Mandy and the others oblivious to his actions, and started signing something to me. It looked like he was trying to spell something. He signed as he continued to watch Carl move around the room, aware that time was of the essence here.

Okay, there was a C. And I’m not sure what the index and middle fingers crossed were. Then there was an I. Then an M, another I, followed by an N, and then an A…

Oh shit.

“Criminal?” I turned back to Carl, making sure no one noticed that I was, in fact, watching Mickey instead of guessing the word on my own.

Carl groaned for a moment as he watched Debbie high-five me and jump in her seat. I glanced back over to Mickey, who was giving me a grin from afar, and I grinned back before I stood up for my turn.

Fiona wrote the word on the card and handed it to me. I looked down at it for a moment.

 _Bartender_.

Damn. Fiona sure knew how to pick ‘em, didn’t she?

It took me almost too long to figure out how this was going to work out. Fiona suddenly took me out of my thought process. “Sixty seconds, Ian.” Like that was going to help.

I made my way over to the table on the other side of the room and started grabbing some imaginary cups, pretending to fill them up with an unknown beverage. “Waiter!” I heard Carl say, and I shook my head. “Dish washer!” I heard Debbie shout afterwards, and I shook my head again.

“A maid.” Kevin added. God, this was his occupation, and he himself couldn’t get it.

“Getting a drink?” Mandy was close, but it wasn’t exactly right.

So after I pretended to give someone one of the invisible glasses, I ran on the other side of the table for a moment, pretending to be said customer and drinking the invisible drink with my left hand before I stumbled like a drunken idiot. “You’re at a bar!” Veronica shouted, and right after that, Lip called out, “Bartender!”

Debbie and Lip cheered from where they are before I joined them and gave them a high five.

“One against one,” Fiona announced over the cheers. “Our first tie breaker of the game.”

Lip stood up from where he was previously sitting and walked to the center of the room, waiting for Fiona to finish writing her word on the card. “No problem. We got this.” Fiona already had a set of made cards sitting in front of her, so she just pulled one out of the stack and gave it to Lip. All of a sudden, Lip started to laugh a bit under his breath about God knows what.

Then he started walking like an old man, holding an object in his hand. Debbie and Carl started laughing as Lip gestured the invisible object towards Kevin, shaking it lightly while he got on his knees and made a desperate facial expression.

“Homeless!” Veronica called out of nowhere, and when Lip signaled that she was right, she started dancing from where she was seated, prompting Debbie to do the same.

I watched as Lip walked back over and took a seat next to me. “The hell was funny about that?”

“Thought about Frank.”

That alone brought a few laughs out of me.

* * *

Veronica was next in the game, and after Fiona gave her her assigned card, she was already into action. She pretended to be someone small, skipping around the room like a child, and Kevin immediately shouted, “Teletubbies!”

Lip and I laughed while Debbie frowned. “How do you get Teletubbies out of that?” No one commented.

Veronica held something out before bringing back towards her chest and she walked to the other side of the room to knock on an invisible door. “Halloween!” Carl called. Veronica signaled that he was on the right track but didn’t have the right answer.

She sat on the floor with the invisible object, taking some contents out of it before opening something and putting it in her mouth. “Candy!” Mandy called, and Veronica literally cursed herself out, prompting Mandy to smirk and give her teammates a high five all around.

“We’re tied again?” Debbie asked Fiona in disbelief.

“Seems like it.” Fiona responded, looking at the tallies she recorded on a loose-leaf sheet of paper.

Mandy sat back down in her seat before glancing over at her brother and then to Fiona. “Mickey didn’t go.” She stated, signing the words as she went on. “He can take my turn.” Mickey frowned at his younger sister in confusion and started signing something in her direction.

“Yeah, Mickey, join us.” Veronica spoke once she got up off the floor and sat in her original seat between Fiona and Debbie.

“It’ll be fun,” Debbie chimed in.

Mandy signed their words to Mickey, and he took a moment to think about it before he shrugged and stood up out of his seat. “Alrighty,” Fiona spoke, trying to choose one card from the stack she possessed in her hands. She found one and handed it over to Mickey, setting the rest of the cards to the side.

Mickey looked at the card…and stopped.

I wasn’t sure how to describe it, really. He was just caught in some kind of trance or something, like it was some kind of trigger. His mouth slowly started to open, probably from shock or sadness. I wasn’t sure which. Either way, whatever the word was, it wasn’t good.

“Mickey?” Fiona spoke up, leaning forward to get a good look at his face.

“You okay, Mick?” Mandy asked, signing in his direction. He nodded, but I already knew off the bat that he was lying.

Mickey turned towards his sister and signed something, the apparent worry still stuck on his face. Mandy looked back, confused, but she later understood, judging by the slump in her shoulders. “Mickey wants someone else to do his card,” Mandy finally responded.

The two Milkovich siblings looked between Kevin and Carl, both stunned as to what was going on. After a moment, though, Kevin reached his hand out towards Mickey. “Give it to me; I’ll do it.” Mickey gave him his card, and Kevin stood in the middle of the room. Mickey stood to the side for a moment before walking over to the kitchen area and out the back door.

Mandy watched her brother exit the house, as did Fiona and Debbie. They all had worried facial expressions plastered on their faces. The tone of family game night felt like it was falling directly down without any type of friction whatsoever. It wasn’t intended for it to be this way.

“I’ll go get him. You guys keep playing.”

* * *

I know Fiona didn’t mean to write that word. She didn’t mean it, and I wouldn’t really blame her for it.

I just…I just don’t like that fucking word.

That word has haunted me ever since I was four, and it never stopped since. I thought that all of the anger I have bottled up for my dad would simmer down once I got older, but shit like this just decided to fire the flames back up again. It’s not as bad as it was before, but the memory was as big as the fire that was burning in my stomach and in my head.

I tried calming myself a bit outside where I could at least get some fresh air, but that alone wasn’t really helping. I don’t fucking get it. I was having fun moments ago, and then that fucking trigger word just came out of nowhere.  I just don’t understand it.

The back porch door opened behind me, and I looked up to see Ian coming out of the house. He closed the door and walked down the steps until he joined me on the porch steps. He didn’t say anything at first; he just reached in his pocket for a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, taking a cigarette out and burning one end so he could blow out some smoke with the other end.

Sitting next to Ian wasn’t as awkward as it had previously been. He hasn’t gotten to know me that well over the past couple of weeks, but as far as I’m concerned, we seem to be good friends.

Or are we even fucking friends? I’m not sure. I kinda kissed him earlier, so I guess not. Then again, doesn’t that make us friends with benefits?

I don’t fucking know. To say that we’re…well, something else, now that would be fucking weird, especially since I barely hung out with the guy since I gave the entire world the silent treatment.

Ian took his drag of the cigarette before handing it to me. I took a drag, leaving the thing in my mouth as I watched Ian pull out the black notebook we had been writing in. He started writing something underneath the shit tons of paragraphs we wrote to each other earlier, and when he was done, he gave the notebook to me.

“What did the card say?”

I knew he would come out here and ask me that type of shit.

I contemplated over the idea of even telling Ian in the first place. Right now, it just felt a little uncomfortable to do so right now, being that I literally left everyone else inside wondering if I was going to blow up the backyard or not. Then again, it’s just Ian. This has fuck all to do with everyone else back there, and we’ve gotten closer anyways.

Like that makes much of a difference, but whatever.

I bit my bottom lip before I started writing the word.

 _Fireworks_. Fucking _fireworks_.

Ian had no idea why I even wrote that, and that made me angrier because I hate having to explain myself to people multiple times. Specifically, I hate having to repeat my disability story to people multiple times. I don’t want to repeat every bullshit memory I’ve gone through, and I don’t like when people ask about it.

Before I even gave Ian the permission to ask, I just took the notebook back and literally wrote my fucking life story right there on that sheet of paper. “The Fourth of July before I turned five years old was the last day I could hear anything. You know, the family went out of town to have a little family outing or some shit since a distant cousin had this crazy thought to have the fireworks explode in his backyard instead of actually staying in Chicago to watch them go off at Navy Pier.”

I stopped for a moment to gather more thoughts before I continued to write. “I have an uncle down there who’s almost as bad as Dad, though I have no fucking idea on what his stance is on whether guys like dicks up their asses or not. He created some meth lab or whatever in the garage, and sometimes, Dad would team up with him to score some cash selling the shit they gathered up in there.”

Ian heard me trying to hold in my anger through my nostrils, because when I stopped writing again, he put his hand on my shoulder.  While it was nice of him, I couldn’t contain my anger about this. I’m gonna be fucking deaf for the rest of my life, and it’s my father’s fucking fault. That jackass.

But I still took Ian’s advice and took a couple deep breaths before writing some more. “My distant cousin, Dexter, and his father, Uncle Pete, had put the fireworks and shit in the garage until it got a bit darker outside, because we kinda came when it was time to barbecue and stuff. Mama was helping with the food outside on the grill, and she told me to get Dad and tell him that the food was ready. I did what she told me to do but at the wrong fucking time –“

I could feel myself breathing heavily again, and Ian was shaking my arm now. I gulped the lump in my throat before I prepared myself to write again. It felt like he wanted me to stop writing, but I couldn’t help myself. If I didn’t get it all out now, then I was probably going to go back home and kill my dad with the gun he held to my head.

Only there were two problems to that: one, I had no idea where the gun was now since Mandy took it out of the Gallagher house, so I couldn’t defend myself; and two, even if I did, Dad was going to find out sooner or later that it’s still gone, and he’ll kick my ass for it.

I bit down on my bottom lip. Hard. I could literally taste the fucking blood coming out of the flesh. I kept it like that until I gained enough sanity to write again. “He was on drugs that day. He and Uncle Pete smoked them in the garage where all the fucking meth was located.” I paused and then continued. “Dad’s drunk fucking ass left some of the cigars and stuff lit up when he placed them down on the crates where the fireworks were stored. He and Uncle Pete were just about to head back to the backyard, and I started to follow them until I saw one of the cigars burning on the crate. I tried calling him, but…”

Angry tears started to fall from my eyes. Ian was still holding onto me as I continued to write. He had been looking over my shoulder the entire time, and I didn’t even have to give him the notebook to let him know how much I was hurting.

A couple of tears had fallen on the paper when I started to put a shaky hand back on the paper and write again. “He didn’t pay attention to me. He never listened to me. He never _wanted_ to listen to me. I mean, one or two kids was enough, let alone none at all, so yeah, I get where he’s getting at.”

Ian shook me another time. I glanced up from the paper and saw him shake his hand. I looked down at his mouth and made out that he was trying to tell me, “don’t.” Whatever that meant.

He took the notebook out of my hand and then looked up at me, as if he was trying to give me space. I felt like complete shit for crying in front of him like that and spilling out all of these fucking feelings in his face while telling him about one of the most tragic days of my life. No one ever wanted to actually pay attention to what I had to say before, unless it was Mandy or sometimes Iggy. Mama always wanted to tend to my needs and all of that, but of course, she’s not here, and I live with a bunch of careless assholes.

I took one of my hands and wiped my face forcefully before reaching over to Ian, grabbing his face and kissing him hard on the lips. The kiss wasn’t really that long, and it wasn’t that short, either. My reason for doing it in the first place, I really don’t know. Maybe I’ll never know.

Or maybe it’s because I want Ian to be more than just a neighbor…

And more than just a friend.

I let go of him and just stared at him. I knew my eyes were already red, but that didn’t stop me from having that feeling of looking like the biggest idiot in the world right now. Ian probably didn’t think so, and it kind of makes me wonder why. He should be slapping me across the face and telling me to be a man or some shit like that.

I know Dad would do something like that.

I gulped down the lump again before I signed to him: “Thank you.” He nodded in my direction. Even if his sign language needed work, he was kicking ass at the whole listening thing – and not a damn word had to come directly out of my mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Labor Day, all. Finally get a day off from school, so I don't know how much I'll be writing, but hopefully, I'll at least get more ideas out of the way.


	18. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don’t want to be uncomfortable again. I don’t want to wake up on a rocky road for the rest of my life. All it’s doing is hurting my fucking back."

Ian and I stayed outside for a while longer, finishing off the cigarette Ian burned for the both of us. I watched him suck all the air in while the other end was burning a bright orange. Sometimes I felt like the cigarette – you know, that symbolic shit. I held in so much that I didn’t want other people knowing what was going on with me. No one else needed to be wrapped in my shit, really, because then they would just be sacrificing their own lives for the one asshole that fucked everything up in the first place.

And then there’s Ian Gallagher, making hundreds of attempts to bring me in to his little fucking circle and letting me know that I can basically tell him anything.

So I did. I blew out all of the smoke I held in through my ears, my mouth, my entire head, actually – I did all of that, and he just sat there and absorbed it. He saw every word I wrote in this little notebook of ours, and he didn’t judge me or anything for it. Hell, he did the one thing my father wouldn’t do in a million years: _comfort_ me. Ian comforted me, and goddamn, didn’t that feel like being on fucking cloud nine or what?

I don’t want to be uncomfortable again. I don’t want to wake up on a rocky road for the rest of my life. All it’s doing is hurting my fucking back.

And hey, I’m still trying to get myself to believe that I’m actually thinking this, but…well, Ian makes me comfortable. Not just Ian, but the other Gallaghers, too, make me feel comfortable. Every time I’m over here, whether it’s telling some stupid fucking jokes with Ian or running around with the rest of the Gallaghers, I feel something I haven’t felt in a while. I actually leave here with a smile on my face sometimes. If I’m not smiling, then I’m probably just hiding the happiness in my head during the walk home because I still had to brace myself for what would happen if I walked through my house door and see Dad throwing another rampage.

There were times where I didn’t even want to leave this place. The Gallagher house was mine and Mandy’s happy place away from home. Ian and his older and younger siblings got along better than anyone in our family ever has. Mama was the last thing we had that made us feel like a real family before she was gone. Iggy, we hang out sometimes, sure; but it wasn’t like the bond Ian had with maybe Fiona or Lip or something like that. And yeah, the Gallaghers had an asshole dad, too, but he sounded more decent than Dad ever was.

Ian must have suspected that I calmed down enough to go back inside, so he patted me on my back and led us in the house through the back door. When we walked through the kitchen, the charades games was long over, and everyone was finding a seat in front of the TV.

I started to make my way to the couch. Ian and Fiona seemed to be whispering to each other about something, most likely about me, but I didn’t want to seem like I was intruding or anything.

I found a seat next to Carl. I didn’t understand a damn thing he said sometimes, and it’s obvious that he didn’t understand a thing I said, either, but he was actually pretty cool. When Ian was done talking to Fiona, he found an empty seat next to me, and Debbie plopped down beside him.

Mandy wasn’t in the room, and I wasn’t sure why. I tried not to focus on it, but the movie was already playing, and she still wasn’t down yet.

About five minutes into _Valentine’s Day_ – I assume that Ian’s team won charades and that either Debbie or Veronica chose the movie – Mandy came downstairs, taking a seat on the floor between Ian and Debbie, grabbing the bowl of popcorn that was sitting on the coffee table in front of her.

Something about her seemed…a bit off. She looked like she was trying to recover from some type of pain in her chest or in her stomach, and she sat down like she broke something. She was fine earlier before I chickened out of the game, so what the hell changed?

I reached over to tap her on the shoulder and signed to her. “You okay?”

All she did was sign back. “I’m fine. Probably something I ate at lunch.” I wasn’t really buying it, but I still took her word for it.

Fiona had set up the subtitles so I could read what was going on, but for some reason, I wasn’t really interested in the movie itself. Maybe it’s because of the self-explanatory title or the way that the people on screen were giving each other those damn doe eyes when someone gave them gifts and shit, but I didn’t like it. Whoever chose to watch this, I respect them for it, but I feel like I can’t even relate to these people. Love in the Milkovich family barely exists, and we definitely don’t do all the sappy shit, let alone stand on people’s yards and jump around like a school girl like Taylor Swift is doing. Jesus, she looks like she needs to get fucking laid.

Ian and I were really close to each other since we were sandwiched together, with Debbie and Carl on either side of us. Ian looked engaged in this thing, for some reason, and I had no idea why. He was always so optimistic about different kinds of shit. But of course, he didn’t really have much in his life to worry about like I did, so I understood to an extent.

His arm was touching mine. I didn’t notice before the movie started or anything, but when I did, my fucking nerves were trying to get the better of me. We were in a room with the other Gallagher siblings and their neighbors, Kevin and Veronica. None of them were Terry Milkovich, but somehow, it felt as if his presence was somewhere in this room. Truth is, being with Ian around other people scared me a little bit, because what if one of these people decided to tell my father about this? What would Dad do to me then?

Then again, no one was paying attention to us. They were all watching the movie like nothing was even happening. That made me even more nervous, because a part of me wanted to do what these people in the movie were doing and get as close to Ian as possible.

In my world, it’s not that simple. There were too many onlookers in the South Side of Chicago, and they will not hesitate to even whisper a single word to anyone if they found out that a South Sider was actually gay and wanted to be around his supposedly best friend. Those whispers could easily turn into normal-volume conversations, which could turn into shouts throughout the entire neighborhood, and whoever decides to say it out loud first, Dad will still hear it eventually, and then all of that shit would come tumbling down on me like an avalanche.

That’s when I made an attempt to try and remember Ian’s words from earlier. Dad doesn’t really want the chance to get to know me as a person and as his son; he doesn’t appreciate anything I do. Ian’s advice felt like it clicked into place. I shouldn’t be paying attention to people who won’t appreciate who I am. Sure, I’m still scared shitless about how he would react if I came out, but he doesn’t have to know, right? Hell, he doesn’t deserve to know anyways.

And again, I’m in a room full of Gallaghers who warmed up to me and Mandy ever since we moved in. They have a gay brother who doesn’t give a shit about what anyone says or does to him, and they all still love him just the same. They probably wouldn’t care if I was gay, either, though I’m not really confident in letting them know that much information since I’ve known them for about three weeks already.

Still, there just might be a chance that I have found some safety around here.

I still wanted to touch Ian so badly, but we would be sitting here on the couch for an hour watching this damn movie. So I moved my hand closer to his upper arm, letting my fingers brush over his skin for a moment. Ian has really smooth fucking skin. My fingers ghosted over his hand that was resting on the couch seat before they connected with his fingers. I felt like I was freaking Ian out or something, so I just looked ahead and focused on the film. However, Ian didn’t really show any signs that he didn’t like the contact.

And to make things even better, he grabbed my hand back. We held them there between our legs that were almost pressed up against each other, so I doubt anyone would even notice that. Still, I felt safe. All of the previous thoughts I had about my dad were mostly gone when Ian held my hand. It’s like this house was some kind of sweet spot, an area where Dad wouldn’t have a clue as to what went down over here.

This is the most comfortable I’ve felt in a while.

* * *

I’m not really sure when it happened, but we had fallen asleep in the middle of the movie. Mandy woke me up halfway through the end credits, and that’s when I realized that my head had found its way to Ian’s shoulder. My neck was hurting like a bitch, and Ian’s head was resting against mine. The weight of his fucking skull was on top of my head, but I honestly didn’t mind.

When I started stretching my arms and legs a bit, I turned in Mandy’s direction. She was signing something along the lines of “we have to head back home.”

Fucking Christ.

I don’t want to go back home. I don’t want to go back home and let my brief happiness go away because of something my dad’s about to do to the both of us. Just thinking about Dad in general makes me upset, even when Ian and I are talking about him in private. He doesn’t have to physically be here to ruin things for me.

But I feel like if I didn’t go home now, then he’d throw a fit about something that was out of our control, and either Mandy, me, or both of us would suffer the consequences.

So I stood up out of my seat and started to follow Mandy towards the front door before I noticed Ian grabbing my arm. I turned back around and I saw him mouthing, “you leaving?” I nodded, and he started to get up. He did a double take of his surroundings before he put a quick kiss on my cheek.

I had no idea if Mandy or the other Gallaghers or their neighbors were watching us or not, but my face turned red as if they were. I started looking around me, somewhat panicking on the inside, only to learn that Debbie, Carl, and their baby brother, Liam, were headed upstairs to get to bed, the board games in hand; Lip and Fiona were cleaning up in the kitchen and in the living room; Mandy was retrieving her school stuff; and Kevin and Veronica were already gone next door.

We weren’t necessarily alone, but Ian made it look like we were.

He placed a hand on my arm, his thumb brushing over the skin, in his attempts to calm me down some. It worked for a while, and I couldn’t feel any more grateful.

Mandy came back in the room, beckoning me over to the front door, and bid her farewells to the Gallaghers before we walked outside. It wasn’t as warm as it was earlier in the day, but it was at a respectable temperature for us to walk in.

During the walk home, I kept thinking about Ian. We were too far away from each other now. He was probably up in his room wrapping himself under the covers, and I’m out here with my sister at about ten at night trying to get back home to our shitty dad. Ian was about to sleep comfortably in his own bed, most likely with happy thoughts about us or some shit like that, and I’m bracing myself for when Dad knocks me out with his fist.

I hate having these thoughts running through my head, but it’s true. Ian had it better over there. All I want is what he has: a caretaker who was going to love him unconditionally. Fiona wasn’t necessarily a mother or anything, but she won tons of awards for parenting over my dad. Not only that, but he allowed Ian to do whatever he put his mind and heart to.

Ian was one lucky motherfucker.

The house was dark and quiet when Mandy and I made it there. Dad probably went asleep or some shit – or that’s what I hoped anyway. Mandy unlocked the front door with her key, and we walked in as quietly as we could.

Until we literally jumped out of our skin when the living room lamp turned on.

I didn’t know what Dad was saying, but I assumed that he was asking us where we had been all this time. Sure, I could read lips sometimes, but my interpretation needed some work.

I turned to Mandy, and she was literally shaking beside me. She tried explaining to him that we were at the Gallagher house, but before she got a chance to finish, Dad got up off the sofa and walked towards us. He looked like he was trying to sniff something off of Mandy, like she had drugs or some shit like that. He did it to me, too, and I started backing away nervously.

All of a sudden, he grabbed the both of us with force, dragging us to the bathroom down the hall. Mandy looked like she was shouting, and I couldn’t blame her because Dad’s grip was hard as fuck. He kicked the door open and threw Mandy on the floor in front of the toilet. He shoved me inside before he kicked Mandy in the stomach.

I wanted to do something so bad. He was abusing my baby sister, and no one fucking hurts my baby sister like that unless they want a black eye.

But this was Dad we’re talking about. Hitting him would come with a price, and there’s no telling what price one would have to pay.

I kept watching the scene in front of me. Mandy had her finger shoved down her throat, and she was puking up everything she ate at the Gallaghers – the popcorn and snacks included. Dad was probably offended or some shit about the fact that no one got to make his dinner for tonight.

He could have easily found himself a cook book or some shit if he was that desperate.

Mandy was holding her hand to her stomach by the time Dad shoved her away from the toilet bowl, and Dad turned his head towards me. I didn’t want to fucking do this. I really didn’t. I even made an attempt to leave the room, but Dad wasn’t having it. He dragged me down to the toilet bowl. Before I knew it, he took out another hand gun from his back pocket, ready to shoot me with it if I didn’t follow his orders.

I was very vulnerable to the gun. Well, really, I got this vulnerable when I didn’t have a way to protect myself. I was especially vulnerable when it was Dad who was holding the gun at my head. Before I knew it, I started crying, and I didn’t know how to stop. My chest was hurting, and my head started hurting, almost automatically.

I felt the end of the gun up against my temple. I had to compose myself quick before he blew my fucking brains out. I slowly opened my eyes and saw Mandy looking at me with scared eyes, mouthing, “please Mickey.” My baby sister needed me, and I needed her. There were some sacrifices in life you had to make for your blood.

So I slowly brought my index finger inside my mouth, as deep as I could so I could get the food out of my system. It was fucking hard to even get anything out. When barely anything came out, Dad just dragged me further down to the ground and kicked me repetitively in the stomach. That’s when I started feeling a bit sick, and some of the food spilled out of my mouth and onto the floor.

I felt a hard slap on my face, most likely for throwing up on the floor, and I gathered up the strength I had left to sit up and spit the rest out in the toilet bowl. Once I was done, I felt my forehead hit the edge of the toilet bowl very hard out of exhaustion. I still cried, but I tried crying in a way that Dad couldn’t hear it. It’s hard doing that when my fucking ears don’t work anymore.

I kept my head there for a few more minutes. Dad had left the room, I guess. Mandy reached over for me, grabbing my arms and my waist so she could scoot me over closer to her. She was sobbing incredibly. My vision was kind of blurry because there were tears in my eyes, too, but I could make out what she looked like still. My stomach was really hurting like a bitch, so I just leaned against Mandy and held her very close to me. Mandy put a kiss on my cheek, despite that our breath probably smelled like stomach acid, and I kissed her back on her cheek.

We sat like that until we felt comfortable to get back up off the floor. Mandy signed to me, gesturing to my vomit on the floor, “I’ll clean this up. You get dressed for bed.” I was too weak to protest, so I just brushed my teeth and stumbled on to my room.

Everything was in pain when I made several tries at getting my clothes off. I threw my shirt and pants in the hamper in my closet and just threw on an undershirt and left my boxers on. I winced a little when I climbed into my own bed, the remains of my Dad’s abuse hidden under my clothes. I didn’t bother looking at the severity of the bruises because I felt like I couldn’t handle it.

Shit, I couldn’t handle it anyway. Laying on my side didn’t feel like the best idea, but I was basically hurt everywhere, so it didn’t matter.

I brought the covers up to my chin, holding my hands together underneath the sheets and on top of my chest as another tear threatened to come down my face. I fucking hated it here. I don’t want to be here anymore. I wanted to go back to the Gallagher house and stay there. However, they already had too many people over there as it is; it was like a goddamn rodeo in their house.

Moments later, Mandy came in my room after cleaning up my waste and getting ready for bed. She kneeled down in front of me and signed, “do you want me to sneak in a sandwich for you?”

I shook my head in defeat. What’s the point in doing that when Dad’s going to find out later on?

Mandy looked sad. She seemed to have stopped crying, but her eyes looked a little glassy and wet. She gulped for a second before she leaned in and put another kiss on my cheek where a tear had left a stream on my face. She signed to me “goodnight” before getting up and heading to her own room.

As much as I loved my sister, I still wasn’t okay. The comfort I felt hours ago has now been replaced with that same rocky road I’ve slept on for years.

* * *

I had been crying all night. I’m honestly scared – not just for Mickey, but for myself. I could barely sleep because of what just happened.

Everything was okay before – family game night with the Gallaghers, playing all those fucking games, eating snacks and whatnot, watching movies. You’d think that this would be the best Friday I’ve ever had, but in reality, it’s not. Friday night ended like every other night: with some kind of beating from my dad and having that feeling that Mickey and I will be trapped in this life forever.

I went into a deep depression all night through early morning. I kept having bad dreams that threatened my sleep, so there was no question as to why I was so droopy in the morning. Waking up the next day was a bitch. Not only did I still feel Dad’s bruise marks on me, but I had the feeling of wanting to throw up again, like it was something Dad had initiated.

Maybe he did, for all the fuck I know.

Something wasn’t settling in my stomach once I got to seating position. All of a sudden, I felt something rumble before it came up towards my mouth. That’s when I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, vomiting up some more food that didn’t make it through my system.

The funny thing was that, other than last night, I remember this shit happening at the Gallagher house, too. Fiona didn’t make shitty food, that’s for sure, and Dad forced Mickey and I to puke our guts out after the first time I got sick.

Suddenly, a realization had hit me like a ton of bricks, but I really didn’t want to believe how true it was.

No. _Fuck_ no. This can’t be happening.

I sat there in the bathroom for the next few moments, internally panicking. It couldn’t be true, could it? I can’t possibly…

Taking myself out of my own trance, I stood up off the floor and made my way back into my room, throwing on a white tank and some black leggings. I took some money out of the back of my dresser, along with my phone, before darting out of the house and to the Kash and Grab.

When I got there, I skimmed through the whole store until I found the shelf filled with a few yellow boxes, all priced around a dollar and ninety nine cents including tax. I took one of the boxes, along with a big bottle of apple juice, and handed it to the man behind the counter – I assume he was Kash; I remember Ian talking about him the second time he came to our house.

I walked all the way home, not giving two shits if I was drinking apple juice directly out of the bottle like some hobo. I wanted to make sense of all of this, and I only had one way to do so in just a short amount of time.

I got back home moments later, the bottle of apple juice tossed in some trash can before I even made it to my block. The juice really got down through my urinary system, and I really needed to pee. Luckily, no one was in the bathroom by the time I got inside.

Before I got a chance to piss, I opened the yellow box and took out of a white stick, reading the instructions that came with it carefully before leaking on the strip.

I closed my eyes, hoping and praying that this wasn’t real. I didn’t want it to be real. Dad would freak out if he found out I was pregnant. He would kick me out of his house or even worse. And then Mickey would be alone here with that bastard breathing down his neck. God knows I can’t leave Mickey alone; he’s old enough to take care of himself, but there are some things siblings have to look out each other for.

I was done peeing, so I just waited for the results. I could feel myself creating a hole in the floor from pacing so much, but I was too distracted right now. I was seconds away from finding out the truth, and I feel like it’s going to wreck me for the rest of my life.

Truth is, it has already. Wanna know how?

I glanced down at the stick just for a moment and noticed the pink plus sign that appeared on the tiny little screen.

And that’s when I lost it.

I fucking lost it, which really felt like an understatement in my eyes. I took the stick out of the bathroom and tossed it on the floor in my room before screaming my vocal chords out. I found everything in sight to toss around my room, from the bed sheets to the books sitting by my backpack to my makeup products. I threw every fucking thing, and I didn’t care how much of a mess I was making or whether Dad would tell me to shut the fuck up or not.

He started this shit anyway.

I wasn’t sure how Mickey noticed that I was upset, but I felt his gentle, tattooed hands grip onto my shoulders, turning me around to face him. That’s when I ultimately broke down in front of him, falling down to the floor and holding my legs against my chest. My chest was heaving to the point where I almost couldn’t breathe.

Mickey knelt down to try and get a better look at my face. He looked worried, but I didn’t want to tear his world apart by letting him know the terrible news.

Unfortunately, he found out on his own. The stick was visible in the center of the room. He scattered over towards it, and I swear I could see his chin tremble a bit when he was looking at the pink plus sign. He turned to me with shock in his eyes. I barely noticed that he was signing to me because I was crying too hard to even do anything else.

Mickey held me close to him, literally gripping onto my shirt tightly. I could hear his breath catch a couple of times, and that’s when I noticed that he was crying above me. He had kissed my neck and rubbed circles all over my back, but the flow of tears wouldn’t stop. They were all over my face and fell on the material on Mickey’s shirt.

The combination of the fact that I’m pregnant, the sight of Mickey breaking down in front of me twice within twenty four hours, and the somewhat fading bruises on my dad made me feel so uncomfortable right now. Nothing was healing the way it should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOL wow, I'm a terrible person, but it had to be done (sorry guys).


	19. Falling Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mandy and I, we’ve been on this ride for years, and we always held each other’s hands when we reached the steep points in our lives. She helped calm me down when I cried every night after the accident. She helped me learn sign language even after Mama died. She tended to every wound I have encountered whenever Dad took his anger out on us. She does everything for me, and it’s breaking me knowing that the one other person in my family holding me up is starting to slip through the cracks."

About half of the members of the Gallagher household were asleep by the time I got back home from my morning jog. Fiona was preparing some waffles for breakfast, and Carl was lounging on the living room couch watching some suggestive reality show that I couldn’t put a name to. It didn’t look like much, but it was actually a good morning.

“You’re back,” Fiona called to me once I closed the back door, removing my running shoes. “Wanna help me fix breakfast?”

I shrugged my shoulders in my sister’s direction. “Sure.” I made my way to the sink and briefly washed my hands before grabbing some eggs that had been abandoned on the kitchen counter and cracking them against the edge of the plastic, green bowl.

“I think it was kinda nice having Mandy and Mickey over for game night, don’t you think?” Fiona asked me, and I nodded. I liked having those two over no matter what event occurred, really. “The house felt a tad bit livelier last night than it has in a while. Thank Debbie for bringing the game night idea back up.”

I laughed at the thought of Debbie getting engaged with everyone last night. “I’ll make a note of that.” As Fiona checked the waffles in the waffle maker, I started spacing out a bit. Fiona was right; family game night was greater this time around, and not just because of the amount of people there.

My mind drifted to Mickey for a moment. Sure, things started to go downhill halfway into charades, but everything was resolved not too long after. I feel like he trusts me enough to let me in to his world. It would take some time to do so with Mandy, but for right now, Mickey felt like enough.

Dilemmas aside, I just liked having him here in general. He engaged with the other Gallaghers slowly, but it’s not like either Carl or Debbie were complaining. They actually thought Mickey was cool, and that was close enough to being a very great first impression of the guy.

And on top of all of that – not that it’s the most important thing in the world, but it meant something to me – Mickey’s getting a little bit more comfortable with kissing me. I’m not really sure what prompted him to kiss me when we were talking outside, but that gave me more than enough proof that he was adjusting to me quite well.

Fiona must have caught on to the fact that I was swimming in my own thoughts because she interrupted them the moment she asked, “you’re happy this morning. Someone special?”

 _Yes, someone very special_. I really wanted to say that, but I knew I couldn’t. Mickey probably wouldn’t forgive me if I started talking to other people about our friendship – which seems to be more than a friendship at this point, and we haven’t even fucked each other – since he hasn’t given me the okay to do so yet.

One of these days, he’ll give me that okay, and I’m more than willing to be patient for when that day arrives.

“Just feeling good, is all,” I told my older sister, taking my focus back to the eggs in the bowl. “You?”

Fiona’s eyebrows inched up on her forehead as she took some perfectly-prepared waffles out of the waffle maker and onto a plate with other previously made waffles in a stack. “If by someone special, you mean the men I have lined up in my little black book, then no.” She brought the plate to the center of the dinner table. “Jimmy was the most decent out of all of them, but of course, the biggest lying asshole as well.”

I snickered at the memory of Jimmy over here at the Gallagher house. Out of Fiona’s significant others, he engaged with all of us the most, even if it came with some sort of price. And yeah, I didn’t like it when he lied to Fiona, for the most part, but I guess it’s true what they say: the truth has set him free, right? “At least we got a new washer out of it,” I added, my head pointing in the direction of the Samsung washer he got Fiona the second day they’ve met.

Fiona briefly turned her head towards the washer and chuckled. “Yeah?” she asked me, and I nodded. She shrugged. “A lot of things in life aren’t free, little brother, but hey,” she added, patting me once on the back, “that piece of junk’s not rumbling throughout the house anymore, that’s for sure.”

She was right about that. Whenever Liam used to wet the bed, and Lip or Fiona got up to change the sheets, I couldn’t get the sound of that damn thing to go away for the life of me while I tried to get the last bit of sleep I needed.

At that moment, Veronica swung the back door open, tossing her black purse in an empty chair. “Your biddy bum father slept in The Alibi again.” She spoke, unimpressed. “Behind the counter.” I rolled my eyes at the thought of Frank passed out with an empty glass of booze in his hand. If I had a dollar for every time either Kev or Vee mentioned Frank sleeping in their bar overnight, Fiona could pay the electric bill for the next seven months.

Fiona must have had the same thought, because she just shook her head at Vee’s statement and went back to checking on the bacon. “He sounds very comfy.” She responded dryly.

“Well Kev doesn’t,” Vee explained, leaning against the counter, “and every time we kick him out, he always talks shit about how he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Should have thought about that before he called DCFS on his own kids, don’t you think?” Fiona asked bitterly, furiously taking the bacon off the frying pan and placing it on another large plate. That had been the worst day for the Gallagher household ever. It’s not the fact that Lip, Debbie, Carl, Liam, and I got separated in the first place, because we’ve been through that before. It was the fact that he tried to rat on us and decided to remain anonymous so no one would identify him.

Lucky for Fiona, she was able to figure it all out before Frank could even say _drunk in a bunk_ fifteen times fast. “And what about Sheila? I thought she was tending to him. You think she gave up?” Fiona added, looking back at Vee, who just shrugged back.

“By the way,” Vee spoke up, taking a random apple slice from the bowl of apple slices Fiona had cut up earlier, “those kids are at your door.”

Fiona frowned. “What kids?”

“New neighbors. Check the steps.” That was all Vee said before I realized that they were talking about Mickey and Mandy.

Fiona wiped her hands with a rag and walked over to the front door. I followed close behind, because my concern started to grow for them instantly. Why were they here so early? Did they just want to hang out, or did something happen between their dad again?

I guessed on the latter once the front door was opened. Mickey came into view, and he was cradling Mandy in his arms, the girl resting in Mickey’s lap. I heard Mandy crying a bit, followed by a few sniffles, and Mickey just rubbed her side.

As carefully as possible, Fiona took a step down the porch steps, placing a hand on Mickey’s shoulder. He jumped a little at the contact, and when he looked up at Fiona, his eyes were red as if he had been crying. “Mandy? Mickey?” Fiona asked them both, and Mandy lifted her head off her brother’s lap, revealing her soaking wet face.

Fiona wasted no time in getting them to stand up and come inside the house. When they entered the house, Mickey still had one arm wrapped around his younger sister. He looked at me with a hint of sadness in his eyes, and then continued to follow Fiona further in the house.

I was about to enter the kitchen with them before I heard Carl’s voice. “They came to join us for breakfast?” he asked me, and I shook my head.

“Not sure, Carl.” I sighed. I really wasn’t. That would be great if it weren’t for the tears pouring down Mandy’s face and Mickey looking like he saw the biggest horror show of all time.

I started walking back to the kitchen, and Carl eventually caught up with me, standing behind the archway so Fiona wouldn’t notice.

Unfortunately, for him, Vee noticed Carl before Fiona had a chance to, and that led to Vee making her exit out of the kitchen, bringing Carl with her to the living room to watch something on TV. Once the duo left, there was nothing but tension.

Mickey had seated Mandy in an empty chair from the table, and he stood next to her, his arms crossed defensively over his chest and a now angered look on his face. Mandy’s lips continued to tremble as her eyes focused to the tiling on the kitchen floor. Fiona was leaning against the counter, looking between the two Milkovich siblings. “I want something from one of you right now. If something happened over there with your dad, I need to know so I can figure out what to do next.”

The tone in Fiona’s voice was hard, as was Mickey’s stance. Meanwhile, Mandy looked like she could crumble into bits in any minute. She’s usually stronger than she was now. Her world looked like it was crumbling down.

She didn’t say anything right away; she first looked up to her brother for confirmation and watched him nod. Then she directed her attention back to Fiona, creating a thin line with her lips and swallowing the lump in her throat in increments.

It took a moment, but when she finally spoke, her voice was the smallest I’ve ever heard it before. “I…I’m pregnant.”

My eyes bugged out of their sockets, and Fiona was running her hand all over her face and through her hair. Mickey was shaking a little as he looked down at his little sister, hurt and livid. His and Mandy’s actions alone led me to one conclusion.

“It was your dad…wasn’t it?”

I didn’t realize it right away, but I was mad, too. Every terrible thing happened at that house, from the yelling to the barking orders to the punches and slaps – all of that alone was too much already. This, however, ultimately took the cake.

Well, so far. There was no telling what else he could do to his own kids.

When Mandy started to slowly nod again, more tears poured down her face. She ducked her head, allowing another fresh stream of tears to make soak marks on her white shirt. Her cries got a little louder, and that was Fiona’s cue to grab a chair and sit beside her, rubbing circles on her back and hugging her as tightly as possible.

As for Mickey, he kept up his composure while eyeing our sisters at the same time. His fists were balled up at his sides, like he was ready to punch a hole in the wall at any moment. He sucked in some air as he paced in a circle in the space he was standing in, occasionally rubbing his hand over his mouth.

“Sweetheart, I’ve got you.” Fiona whispered to Mandy as she held her, the younger girl’s head leaning against Fiona’s shoulder. “We’re going to work this out, okay? It’s okay.” Fiona continued to reassure her, rubbing her arm and rocking her back and forth as she spoke in a motherly tone.

Mickey had stopped pacing momentarily, but he was still furious. At one point, he darted towards the stairs and went to the second story of the house. I was about to follow him before I heard Fiona speak again. “Ian, get my phone from off the charger in the living room. I need to make a call to the police.”

I started to head back into the living room before I heard Mandy speak to Fiona again. “Dad’s gonna kill us, Fiona –“

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Fiona told Mandy in a hushed, firm tone.

I had found the phone charging up near the television. When I made a move to grab for it, I heard Carl speak again. “Ian,” he told me, “is something wrong with Mandy?”

Vee didn’t hesitate to answer his question for me. “It’s kind of a grown-up situation, Carl.”

“She came in crying,” Carl responded, concerned. “Is she hurt?”

I sighed. “Very much so.”

My heart broke for the Milkovich kids. Day after day, more shit went wrong for the both of them, and they always ended up here with tears on their faces or eyes on the back of their heads just in case their dad was after them. Mandy didn’t deserve this.  Mickey didn’t, either. They both deserved so much better.

I came back in the kitchen, and Fiona was still trying to convince Mandy that calling the police was the right thing to do. “I need you to listen to me and listen good,” Fiona continued, holding Mandy close to her. “If it’s one thing you’re gonna learn about the Gallaghers, it’s that we stand behind our people when shit hits the fan. It hasn’t been a while since you two have been in the neighborhood, but you and Mickey, you’re with us now. You just have to trust us and let us protect you.”

I remember how it took a while to get those words in Mandy’s mind. We got along in school and stuff like that, but whenever I brought up anything going on at home with their dad, Mandy would find any excuse to push me away. That was the last reaction I expected out of her. She and Mickey needed this help, or any kind of help, for that matter. That’s why I’m so thankful that Fiona is the big sister she is. She’ll do anything for us, blood family or not.

Fiona smoothed out Mandy’s dark hair and continued to cradle her a bit in her arms. “Can you do that for me?” Fiona asked, and Mandy was silent for a few moments before she nodded.

* * *

It took a lot for me to not tear these walls apart.

It had been about two hours since I found out about the news, and I’m still not fucking over it. Dad raped my baby sister, and now my baby sister has a bun in the oven. That was an all-time low, even for my shithole father.

For the past fifteen minutes in the Gallagher house, I had locked myself in the bathroom, trying to figure out if all of this shit was even real or not. This shouldn’t be real. If Dad would have any sense, he would know that he was literally fucking his own kid in her room while intoxicated on whatever the fuck he had at that damn bar of his.

But he doesn’t have sense. He never had. He especially doesn’t have sense if he’s abusing me and Mandy on a daily to weekly basis.

God, I was so fucking angry; I felt like throwing all of the shit in the bathroom cabinets around. However, I knew that wasn’t going to solve anything. So I just leaned against the closed bathroom door and stared at my reflection, sliding down until my ass hit the floor.

And then I cried again. I cried again because this was the only time I could.

I was mainly crying for Mandy, because fuck, she and Mama are the two most important things to me. I’ve already lost one of them; I can’t lose another – or rather, have the other become mentally destroyed by the same jackass that drove my mother to her own suicide.

Mandy and I, we’ve been on this ride for years, and we always held each other’s hands when we reached the steep points in our lives. She helped calm me down when I cried every night after the accident. She helped me learn sign language even after Mama died. She tended to every wound I have encountered whenever Dad took his anger out on us. She does everything for me, and it’s breaking me knowing that the one other person in my family holding me up is starting to slip through the cracks.

I wasn’t exactly sure how loud I was crying or anything – did I even let out a fucking sound? – because I felt someone bang on the door behind me. I felt like shit when I cried in front of other people, let alone people who weren’t in my family – the Milkovich circle, as Iggy and Mandy referred to it.

So I wiped the tears off my face as best as I could and splashed some cold water on my face before I opened the door again. To my surprise, it was one of the younger Gallaghers – Debbie. She had that guilty look on her face, so I assume she heard me sobbing my ass off in here. She started to sign and mouth something to me: “Are you okay?” Surprisingly, she was a little bit better at the whole signing thing than her older brother was, but she still had work to do.

I sniffed once and nodded. She wasn’t going to believe me, but it was the best I could come up with that she could understand.

Ian came out of his room seconds later and found us facing each other. He tapped Debbie a couple of times on the shoulder, and they started having a conversation about me in front of me. Ian probably wanted to get the little one out of the way or some shit and not focused on the bad crap that was going on in my life.

It was better that way anyways.

Debbie nodded to something Ian said before she took a step towards me and wrapped her arms around me. I guess this was her way of saying that she hoped I’d feel better or some shit. I patted her back, acknowledging her hug before she let go and went back into her own room.

Once she was gone, Ian and I were eyeing each other. He had the black notebook and a pen in his hands. As much as I wanted to talk to him, right now didn’t seem like the best time. Sure, I calmed down a little after the cold rush of water hit my face, but it wasn’t going to last.

I walked out of the bathroom and made my way to the other stairway that led to the living room. Carl and Veronica were still in there, and I didn’t want anyone else trying to get my attention, so I just sat there on the steps, keeping myself hidden. Ian had joined me – I had no idea why – and I felt his eyes boring into the side of my head. We sat there for about a few seconds before I turned to him. There was a lot to process, but he seemed to have a clear understanding of what all had gone down, for I saw the stern look on his face.

I looked away from him and stared at a random spot on the steps. This was my reality; this was my life. An eighteen-year-old deaf kid lives in a very dysfunctional home with his pregnant teen sister and his batshit crazy father. That sounded like a fucking headline for a newspaper that was worth reading.

Ian was still there with me, most likely in another pursuit to get me to spill my feelings on paper. Normally, I didn’t like spilling my feelings at all, especially when they were this personal. However, I didn’t have the best coping skills when I was this mad. I would toss everything in sight, kick things, sometimes get drunk off my ass, and maybe take one of Dad’s guns and shoot bullets at a stray wall.

But I was in the Gallagher house, and none of that was allowed.

Then again, they had a shitty drunk for a father, so there’s no telling what was possible in here.

My lips pressed against each other really hard as I reached for the notebook and pen in Ian’s hands. When I got to the next available blank page, I literally wrote everything my brain could come up with it. “Do you have any fucking idea what it’s like to lose everything good you could ever have? Like, do you really have a clue, Gallagher?” It sounded a bit harsh since I was still talking to Ian, but I had so much bottled up that I couldn’t keep inside.

“I thought losing my ability to hear was going to be enough, and that was already a struggle alone,” I continued. “You know how little kids are cooped up in front of the television and shit, just watching TV and listening to the people on the screen trying to engage them and shit? I’m limited to anything with fucking subtitles. You know how parents read stories and shit to you at night before you go to bed, or how they sing lullabies or whatever to get you to sleep if you have a nightmare? Not only can I not even hear my own parents’ voices anymore, but I can’t even have my own mother to be by my side when I wake up in my own sweat.”

Ian didn’t make a move for the notebook, so I assume he was just looking over my shoulder or something. It didn’t matter; I’m an irritable person. Ian was an okay guy, but he had to know that I was fucking irritated.

Actually, that sounded like a major understatement the more I said it in my head.

“Almost every night since I was five, I would scream to the top of my lungs for Mama to come in the room and cradle me to sleep. I was too scared of my own Dad to go in their room, and the fact that I couldn’t hear anything made everything more uncomfortable by the fucking second.” I didn’t stop writing, and my chin didn’t stop trembling, either. “And after she died, I was in a very deep state of denial. I continued calling and crying for her, but she never walked through that bedroom door ever again.”

More tears fell down my face as I remembered the series of events that happened after my mother’s death. Ian didn’t even reach a hand over to me, and I guess that’s because I’m scaring him shitless about how I’m really feeling underneath all of these layers I had. If the tables were turned, I would have felt the same way. I never knew I could become this type of person before until Ian convinced me to open the door and let him in.

“That’s when Mandy started to step in,” I went on. “It had to have been about six to eight days after Mama’s death, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She didn’t want me looking like this anymore, and she especially didn’t want anything to happen to me after all the shit that Mama and Dad went through. So she came in my room almost every night, and we just slept there in the safety of that tiny ass bed, making sure we both fell asleep peacefully.”

I thought about Mandy and how devastated she was when I left her downstairs with Fiona. She had Mama’s motherly qualities, sure, but she wasn’t ready to raise another kid, let alone a kid that would be born out of hate if we hadn’t stopped by and got Fiona’s help.

“Mandy’s the last good thing I have left, Ian. She’s all I got. Now look at her. She went from being a little girl hiding in her bedroom closet whenever Dad got drunk and deadly to a big girl carrying a little kid in her fucking womb that she never wanted or expected.”

That was just it. She didn’t want to get pregnant or get raped by her own father, but surprisingly enough, both ended up happening at once.

More tears threatened to pierce through my eyes as I wrote more and more on the paper. “Our father, our own flesh and blood, did that to my baby sister. He did that, Ian – he raped the shit out of my baby sister and showed no fucking remorse for it. He gets to walk around like the world was made for him, and we’re picking up scraps off the ground like his damn pets.”

Another tear ran down my cheek, and I had to bite my bottom lip to keep it from shaking any more than it already was. “He’s letting her fall, Ian. He’s letting her fall to the fucking ground. I can’t let him do that to Mandy; I just can’t.”

I finally stopped writing and placed my elbows on top of the notebook that was resting on my lap. I brought the heels of my hands dig into my eyes as more tears kept falling down my face. I felt myself sobbing some more, and that was Ian’s cue to scoot over towards me and wrap his arms around me. I instantly gained a major headache from that huge spill, and I could have punched a hole in this wall right now if it weren’t for Ian holding me and whispering things against my skin.

Mandy and I, we’ve been through shit for years. First it was me screaming for help and Mandy coming to the rescue and wiping the tears off my face. In a fucked up way, this was a sign to return the favor. I had to be there for Mandy, because I’m all she has like she’s all I have. I have to cradle her in my arms and wipe her tears away now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, three chapters in one week. That sounds like some kind of record in my book. Still, I'm saddened by how the Milkovich kids are treated, on the show and in this story (I mean, I wrote it, but come on...). Sorry, guys. I just have a lot of feelings.
> 
> P.S., I also changed the summary of the entire story. I only had the last one for so long because I couldn't come up with anything at first. This one was more specific, so I decided to roll with it.


	20. United We Stand, Divided We Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ever since I got a better insight of how the two Milkovich siblings were being raised, I wanted nothing more than to stay with them for as long as I could and find ways to look out for them. I made a mistake by leaving them there in the first place, and every day I think about it, I feel so fucking guilty. Now that they’re both here, I want this to be the best second chance in life that I could ever achieve."

Mickey and I sat there on the steps for about another three minutes, and I just kept my arms wrapped around him as he got as much tears out as possible. Vee and Carl eventually heard us from the living room, and I told them that Mickey needed a minute. Carl had so many questions as to what was going on with him, but I couldn’t really explain it to him right now.

Lip responded a little differently. He had come out of his room – he most likely just woke up or something – and he looked at Mickey and then me before asking, “Bad timing?” I just nodded.

It was bad timing for a lot of things.

When Lip excused the both of us and went down the other steps that led to the kitchen, I looked down at Mickey. He looked a little calmer, but he was still crying. I rubbed his back some and rocked him back and forth. He looked exhausted and depressed. I know that what I was doing wasn’t going to help too much, but it was better than leaving him be. Fiona taught us that doing that wasn’t healthy for anyone, and it certainly wasn’t going to be healthy for Mickey.

Mickey’s sobs subsided, and I tapped him on the side a couple of times to get his attention. He sat up straight again and looked at me with red, wet eyes. He still had the notebook on his lap, with some teardrops leaked onto the page. I figured that he didn’t want to write too much anymore, and I still had a lot to learn when it came to his sign language.

So I just came up with my best imitation of eating food and mouthed, “hungry?” He shook his head.

Then I remembered one sign I learned when Mandy had given me the American Sign Language book. I held three fingers up to my chin and mouthed, “water?” That time, Mickey thought about it for a while before he nodded.

With a nod, I stood up off the steps and reached for Mickey’s hand. He took it, and I dragged him up to his feet. We walked down the hall on the second floor towards mine, Lip’s, Carl’s, and Liam’s room, Mickey’s hand in mine. I was about to walk through the open door when I felt Mickey stop behind me. I turned around, and Mandy was there on the steps. Her tears seemed to have dried on her face since I last saw her.

I leaned against the door frame and watched the exchange between Mickey and Mandy. He looked at her and started signing something. Mandy nodded. “I’m okay,” she responded as she signed back. Mickey brought his arms up and embraced his sister in a hug.

God, you could see their hearts breaking through their eyes. They looked so fragile, like they could turn into a million pieces if you shoved them up against a wall. If you asked me when I first met the two of them if they even matched that analogy, I wouldn’t have been able to notice it.

The duo stood there with their arms wrapped around each other, and I decided that this was my cue to leave them to their privacy.

When I came downstairs into the kitchen, Fiona was on the phone, pacing back and forth in front of the refrigerator. “Her name is Mandy Milkovich,” she spoke to an unknown person on the other line. “Seventeen years old. No, she’s his daughter.” I caught Fiona shutting her eyes out of fury. “That’s what she told me, yes,” she responded to something the other person asked her.

I saw Lip at the table eating some of the breakfast food that had previously been abandoned at the dinner table and joined him. He was cutting up one of the waffles on his plate when he turned to me. “Mandy got knocked up?” he asked lowly.

I nodded. I still couldn’t fucking believe it, but regardless, I nodded.

“That’s fucking sick, man.” Lip replied, shaking his head as he put a piece of his waffle in his mouth. He was right about that.

I couldn’t even eat my own breakfast this morning. I was too distracted by Fiona nearly trembling in anger right in front of me. Anyone who knows Fiona Gallagher will know that whenever one of her own got to their lowest at the expense of someone else, she’ll have the biggest fit in the world. Something similar happened years ago when Frank had left Debbie and Liam downtown somewhere just to get into some more stupid trouble.

“Hey, Ian.” I heard Lip grab my attention again, and I turned back to him. He looked at me with honest eyes. “Mandy’s going to be fine. Fiona’s handling it, alright?”

I deadpanned in his direction. “And what if she’s not?” I gritted my teeth. “For all we know, Terry could have given her an STD, and that shit sticks with you for the rest of your life, Lip.”

“There are some you can get rid of.”

“That’s not the point,” I tried again. “It’s not just the physical shit it has on her, but she’s gonna be _mentally_ stuck with this for the rest of her life. People are gonna be asking her all the time of the story of how her drunk asshole father bent her over against her will, and she’ll have to keep retelling that same story over and over again.”

My anger was starting to come out a little bit, and I could even feel some type of burning in the back of my eyes. “Not just that, but what about her brother, huh? They both had to suffer every day with some kind of bruise on their skin because their dad is never fucking satisfied with anything.”

I know Lip didn’t really understand the whole story, and I honestly couldn’t blame him; but these thoughts running through my head about what could possibly happen at the Milkovich house kept adding to the fire that never ceased itself to rise.

I was taken out of my trance the moment I heard Fiona thank the person on her phone. I turned back to her, and she had hung up on the number before noticing me and Lip. “When you guys finish up, I need you in the living room. We’re having a family meeting.”

I could already see where this was going.

Fiona walked over to the steps and called up to Debbie, who was still in her room. “Debs, bring Liam down and come eat your breakfast!”  Even if she was a little mad, or even a lot, Fiona kept this family glued together.

She disappeared into the living room to grab Carl and talk to Vee, and that’s when I remembered to get Mickey his water. And since Mandy was now up there with him, I decided to get a second cold glass to bring upstairs.

I passed Debbie and Liam on the stairs before I made it to my room. Mickey was leaning his back against the wall and running his fingers through his younger sister’s hair. Mandy held her legs to her chest and faced the doorway, her head resting on her brother’s lap and still emotionally recovering. Mickey noticed my entrance, and I walked further in the room to bring them both their water.

Mandy glanced up at me with defeated eyes as I handed her a glass, and she shook her head. “Thanks, but I don’t want it right now.” Her voice sounded a little hoarse when she spoke to me. Seeing her like this was very devastating and disappointing at the same time. It was painful seeing Mandy trying to hold herself together like this.

I placed Mandy’s glass on the night stand by my bed before giving Mickey his glass. He drank some of the water inside, and I just stood there eyeing the two of them with much remorse. Mickey took a couple of exhales in between sips, his eyes trained to something on the floor, and I could tell that he was trying to keep himself together as well.

“You don’t have to stay, you know.” Mandy spoke up, her eyes facing the bed sheets underneath her.

“But I want to.”

I really wanted to. Ever since I got a better insight of how the two Milkovich siblings were being raised, I wanted nothing more than to stay with them for as long as I could and find ways to look out for them. I made a mistake by leaving them there in the first place, and every day I think about it, I feel so fucking guilty. Now that they’re both here, I want this to be the best second chance in life that I could ever achieve.

Mandy glanced up at me, one of her eyes getting wet a little. “Thank you, Ian.” She responded. She paused for a moment. “It means a lot.”

She knew exactly where I was getting at.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps make their way towards the bedroom door, and I looked back to see Fiona standing in the doorway. “We need you downstairs in a few, Ian.”

I nodded and walked back into the hallway, but not before hearing Fiona speak to Mandy and Mickey. “There’s some extra food, if you two want anything to eat.” A beat later, Fiona had turned around and headed back downstairs.

Lip had taken his breakfast into the living room for the family meeting. Debbie, Carl, and Liam were all on the couch facing the TV that had been turned off moments ago. Vee was sitting in one of the chairs that was next to the living room table. I took a seat beside Liam once Fiona made her entrance. She ran a hand through her head and tiredly looked at every single one of us before speaking.

“So, guys,” Fiona began with a sigh, “to start off our meeting for today, I’m just letting all of you know that you’re expected to see more of Mickey and Mandy Milkovich in the Gallagher house. They’ve been having some problems at home, and I have decided to let them stay here as long as they want.” I nodded, silently thanking Fiona with every fiber in my body.

“Wait, why are they staying here again?” Carl spoke up, confused.

Fiona pointed in his direction. “I’m getting there, I promise.” She took a moment to inhale and exhale again before continuing with her speech. “We all have a very clear understanding of each other in this house; I’m sure we’re aware of that.” Lip and Debbie nodded. “I am responsible for you guys if something happens to you. So if that time comes where you run into a situation – anything at all that you’re concerned about – you come to me, and I will help you as much as possible.”

“We always come to you if there’s trouble,” Debbie replied.

Fiona nodded. “And I’m very glad you do, Debs,” she said. “I’m just saying that…” She paused, her eyebrows rising towards her hair line. “If you get into a serious situation with, say, another person, and…you start feeling like you have no one to run to –“

“I don’t feel that way.” Debbie almost mumbled under her breath. I gulped, feeling the lecture coming full swing and minute now.

Fiona paced in her general area for a moment, and she turned back to all of us, specfically Debbie. “I know you don’t feel that way now, Debs, but I want to leave these words in your head whenever you get into a particular situation.”

When she noticed that Debbie, and even Carl, still wasn’t getting it, Fiona ran her hand through her hair again and reluctantly sighed. “I’m taking it that all of you have seen one or both of the Milkovich kids crying their eyes out when you left your rooms today, correct?” Everyone nodded. “Their dad has been giving them hell since they got here. Maybe even earlier on than now.”

“Like how Dad gives us hell?” Carl asked, somewhat concerned.

“Not even close.”

Well, that’s mostly true. I mean, Terry Milkovich isn’t stealing money from his own family to waste on booze every day, but the shit that even Frank Gallagher does doesn’t add up to what Terry does on a day-to-day basis. Sure, Frank has hit people before, but it wasn’t really consistent.

“Mickey and Mandy came to us this morning, letting us know that Mandy is now carrying a baby.”

The news was still hitting me like a ton of bricks the more I heard about it. The only one who seemed the most shocked about it at this point was Debbie. Carl was taken aback by the news himself, but it didn’t have the same effect on him. “Wait, Mandy’s pregnant?” he asked, even more perplexed.

“She’s going to have a baby?” Debbie asked.

“She’s not having anyone’s baby,” Fiona responded sternly, “because I called the doctor this morning, and they’re going to abort it.”

“But why?”

Fiona stopped for a moment, her eyes glued to Debbie’s. Her hardened expression turned into a worried one, and that’s when she made her way around the coffee table to gently sit down on it so she could meet her younger sister’s eyes.

“Do you remember that day we talked about walking with your brothers to school, Debs? You remember how upset you were because you wanted to walk alone like Lip or Ian does?” Debbie nodded. “I say these things to protect you. I wasn’t trying to be mean to you in any way. You’re my only sister, and there are jackasses out here on the streets preying on little girls like you. I’m not letting them take advantage of you.”

Debbie’s face softened out of sadness. “Did someone take advantage of Mandy?” she asked Fiona.

Fiona gulped for a moment and met Debbie’s eyes. “Her father had gotten drunk a few weeks ago and unconsciously raped his own daughter.” Debbie didn’t say anything else after that. “In addition to pressuring his kids to do things they don’t want to do and even making them ‘pay the consequences’,” she continued using air quotes, “he took the one thing she can never get back.” Debbie didn’t answer, so Fiona answered for her. “Her virginity.”

Everyone in the room was silent. I can feel them trying to form questions in their heads. _Why would Terry do that to Mandy in the first place? Will Mandy be okay? What’s going to happen next?_ To be honest, I had some of the same questions, too. Would Mandy and Mickey even be staying here anymore? If luck was on our side, and Terry got arrested for what he’s done, how long would the Milkovich kids even be here? Would they end up like us and get separated? Or maybe they would end up in a group home like Lip and I used to when Frank called DCFS on us.

But I didn’t want to think about any of that stuff. I was just warming up to Mandy and Mickey, and if they left now, I wouldn’t know what else to do with myself. Sure, I made friends and stuff at school, but I don’t have the connection with any of them like I do with the Milkovich kids.

Fiona looked at everyone individually. “They were never safe living under his roof to begin with. They had no one else to turn to, or at least anyone that we’re aware of. Every day behind locked doors, they’re struggling to keep themselves up only to get knocked back down again. Terry Milkovich is only proving to the world that he’s not worthy of loving and respecting his own kids.”

She got up off the coffee table, her hands firm on her hips. “I want us to change that. They’re not going back to that house until we’re certain they’re safe. I called the police and a child abuse hotline to get some help from the outside. They’re looking for their father right now. In the meantime, we’re keeping Mickey and Mandy here. They can’t be wanderin’ around by themselves, or else they’re subject to danger, and if they’re in the house alone at any time, the doors and windows have to be locked.”

Everyone nodded, and Fiona turned to me. “Ian, you and Lip keep your eyes on Mandy when you’re walking to and from school, and if anything suspicious happens on the inside, let me know.” I nodded, and so did Lip.

Fiona turned towards Vee, who was still sitting behind her. “Vee, you and Kev keep your eyes open if you catch sight of their dad in your bar. And if you see him, stall him and let the police know.”

“Check,” Vee replied. “I’m gonna call Kev at work right now.” She stood up and pulled out her phone, exiting into the kitchen.

I stared down at my lap, deep in concentration. That’s when something came back to me, and I couldn’t help but ask Fiona about it.

“What about Frank?”

It only happened once, but I remember when Frank told us about the time he and Terry met up at the Alibi. That was the same day Terry had came into the Gallagher house and took Mickey and Mandy away.

“You don’t have to worry about Frank,” Fiona assured me. “As far as I’m concerned, we drew the line at him coming back to this house.”

“But Terry knows where we live now because of him,” I added, “and he could come back for them.”

“He won’t make it as far as the front porch, Ian. That’s why I want you guys to keep the doors and windows locked,” Fiona repeated herself. “And check out the window before letting anyone in the house.”

“And if he has a gun?”

No one answered this time.

The Gallaghers weren’t like Terry; they didn’t have weapons hidden around the house, ready to go in for the kill. So defending ourselves, in addition to Mickey and Mandy, would be an issue right there.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Fiona finally answered. “If you can, just find a place in the house to hide and bring Mandy and Mickey with you, ‘cause like I said, they cannot be left alone by themselves knowing that he’s out to look for his own kids.” That was the best possible answer in my book, so I went along with it.

“Mickey and Mandy are going to be resting for most of the day, and they turned down breakfast. If at all today, try convincing them to get some food in their systems. They didn’t bring any clothes with them, so I’ll look around the house and see if I can find anything that no one’s using. And be careful what you say around them, because they’re both very fragile.”

Carl raised his hand, and Fiona looked in his direction. “Does this mean we need to put more money in the squirrel fund since they’re staying here?”

“I’ll talk to Gus and see if I can get a few more hours in,” Fiona declared.

“And I can probably get a word in with Kash.” I added, earning a look from Lip from afar.

“And I’m free to look for more babysitting gigs,” Debbie chimed in.

Carl looked at everyone before turning back to Fiona. “What about me?”

“Stay in school and get enough education until you’re earning your own money with a degree in your back pocket,” Fiona teased, although the joke wasn’t entirely one to laugh at. “If there’s something you find that you wanna do after school hours, be my guest and let me know about it.” Carl nodded back.

With one final sigh, Fiona eyes us all and relaxed her shoulders. “If there aren’t any other questions, then the meeting’s adjourned. Breakfast is getting cold.” Fiona started to walk back into the kitchen, with Carl, Debbie, and Liam following them. Lip and I were left in the living room alone.

“This, uh,” Lip began, “this is some major shit we’re dealing with, huh?” I nodded, playing with the hem of my shirt for a little bit. “Mandy’s pregnant with her asshole dad’s rape baby, and now she and Mickey are both here. It’s hard to believe how much can pile up on your shoulders in a matter of seconds.”

Again, Lip was right. Who would have thought that Terry could have done so much and left us with the scraps?

“I just hope the police can find him in time,” I told Lip, and I stood up out of my seat and headed towards the stairs. “They don’t need this shit anymore.” I left Lip in the living room and walked up the stairs. I found the abandoned notebook and pen that was left here when Mickey and I were having a conversation earlier, and I took both up to the bedroom where he and Mandy were located.

Mandy had fallen asleep on the bed, and Mickey was smoking a cigarette, occasionally digging the heel of his hand in his eye while glancing down at his sister. I walked further into the room and sat at my desk, and Mickey slowly followed my gaze. I went back to the page Mickey left off on. His tears were long dried up on the page, and there were still some blank lines left underneath his handwriting. I started the conversation up right there. “Fiona’s taking care of it. You guys are staying here tonight.”

When he saw the message, Mickey nodded, biting his bottom lip. He didn’t reach for the notebook or anything, so I added on. “You and Mandy are going to be fine. The police are gonna be looking for him and everything. Fiona just wants you two to stay on the down low and not go out and shit by yourself.”

Mickey took the notebook back and wrote a response. “I don’t have anywhere to fucking go.”

“Not now, but sometime later on, you’ll wanna head out and run an errand or some shit,” I wrote down. “Your dad could easily come out of nowhere and try to beat the living shit out of you. It’s better to be safe than sorry, Mick.”

Mickey was still, so I continued. “And you could be alone in the house or something, and he could come back and try to steal you away from us or something. I mean, he knows where we live now, and what if he tries to kill you or one of us in the process? We’re risking our lives here, man.”

I stopped for a moment and saw Mickey reach for the book. I gave it to him and watched him write. “You didn’t have to do this for us, Ian. That’s why Mandy didn’t want you all up in our business in the first place. What’s gonna happen when he hurts one of you?”

“He’s not gonna hurt us,” I assured him. “He’ll have to go through me to even touch Debbie, I’m sure.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Anything for my brothers and sisters, sure. You would do the same for Mandy, wouldn’t you?”

Mickey took a moment to think about it, but after that, he nodded slowly, his eyes training over to the sleeping girl next to him. I could tell from the look on his face that he had a lot on his mind right now. All he wanted was to protect his sister and make sure the both of them didn’t live to suffer through another punch in the face by their own father again, and I sure as hell didn’t blame him.

He then gazed over at me for a couple of minutes and wrote, “you wouldn’t leave us by ourselves, would you, Ian?”

It was kind of a tricky question to answer, but I knew then and there that Mickey and Mandy both needed me. Leaving them alone would only add to the guilt that I’ve been keeping inside from the last time I left them in danger. However, at the same time, I still had to lead my own life. I still had to go to school every day, so staying home with Mickey wasn’t an option, unless I was sick or pretended to be sick for a day. Other than that, I would know for certain that one is safe, but the other one could very well run into some trouble.

I feel like that’s Mickey’s biggest worry, other than Mandy. He’s worried about being left alone himself.

Letting Mickey down wasn’t a choice. I couldn’t do that to him. Mandy probably had to do it a couple of times, for all I knew, and there very well could have been some serious drawbacks. Sure, Mickey was safe here with us, but is it even safe enough knowing that his dad is still out there?

Finally, I just wrote a response to his question, giving him a look of sympathy. “I’ll try not to. I promise.”


	21. Positive Energy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Truth is, being with the Gallaghers was the most fun I’ve had since we moved here. Mickey thought the same thing, I’m sure. They were actually taking the time to get to know him and understand him, and I know how much he loved that."

I haven’t been feeling well for the majority of the day, and it wasn’t just from the general idea that I was pregnant. The morning sickness was still a little new to me. Every couple of hours, I would wake up to something shooting up my digestive system towards my mouth, and I’m literally forced to run to the bathroom and puke everything out. Sometimes I would have to stay in the bathroom until I don’t feel like shit anymore, and when that’s the case, Mickey or Ian’s usually there to pat my back whenever they’re trying to easing the tension being caused by the pain going through my body.

They’re really generous boys, the both of them – a little too generous, sometimes. The more I think about it, the more I’m telling myself that I might not even deserve that type of treatment or respect from them.

I mean, think about it. I’ve neglected Ian’s help from the first day he noticed something wrong in the Milkovich residence, and then I neglected Mickey’s advice about calling the police after the shit with my dad happened. Every time there’s an opportunity to make a right choice, I always do the opposite, and that’s probably why I’m here.

I don’t deserve the back pats or the whispers of assurance. I allowed this to happen. It’s all my fucking fault.

Sometimes when I’m laying down or something, and Mickey’s patting my back and wiping away stray tears, he’ll look ahead with a frown on his face. How he’s not frowning at me, I’ll never know. He has the right to be angry at Dad, too, but it amazes me sometimes how he never notices how some of the things I do ends up being my fault. We wouldn’t be hiding away from Dad right now if it wasn’t for me and this demon fetus.

Aside from the morning sickness and all that jazz, I didn’t really leave Ian’s room for the rest of the day. If Mickey left the room, it was either to help me in the bathroom, to piss, or to share some conversation with Ian. Other than that, he was always here next to me. Fiona would come upstairs and ask us if we wanted to eat, but we both declined. After what happened the previous night where Dad made us vomit our food, if we were to come in contact with him again, then he might make us do it again.

God, I really hope they catch him this time.

It was around seven in the evening when Debbie came in the room. She was quiet at first because she was most likely well aware of our predicament, but then she spoke up. “Fiona wants you guys to come downstairs for dinner.”

To this day, it still feels weird being invited to a Gallagher family dinner. They always tell us that we’re with them and stuff like that, but I still feel like a stranger. Compared to Mickey, I’ve been over here more times than I can count on one hand, but I didn’t feel connected with any of them yet. Maybe Ian, but not the rest of them.

Debbie was still waiting on a response from one of us. I turned towards Mickey, who was playing some game he downloaded on his phone, and tapped him on his leg. “Think we should go down and eat?” I didn’t say it this time for the purpose of Debbie being here, but Mickey knew what I meant. This time, he nodded slowly before standing up and walking out the door.

I started to get up and follow him when I noticed Debbie a little bit more. She had a look of remorse written all over her face, and she was nervously biting her bottom lip as if something was wrong.

She was right, though. A lot of things were definitely wrong.

It’s no secret that Fiona, with maybe Ian’s help, informed her and the other Gallaghers about what happened to us. Debbie’s young, and it’ll take a while for her to realize these things, but I really appreciate her for sympathizing with us.

Even though I still feel like I don’t deserve some things.

“Did he hurt you?” I wasn’t expecting that question to be asked, but it was. Debbie was not only young, but she was curious as well. I don’t blame her.

I looked down at her and sighed. “I know Fiona wouldn’t want you to find out.” Debbie didn’t say anything else; she just nodded. “It was the most painful thing in my life. Not even the punches and slaps add up to that much trauma.”

Debbie’s innocent eyes fell down to the ground. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I kept looking at her before nodding slowly. “But thank you.” That’s when Debbie reached over to me and gave me a tight hug, her head resting against my chest. I returned the hug, rubbing her back and placing my chin on top of her head.

She had nothing to be sorry for, but I sure as hell appreciated this. I appreciate not just her, but even Ian and Fiona. I appreciate all of the Gallaghers, and especially my older brother. As much as I feel like I don’t deserve their care, there’s no disputing that I appreciate it.

* * *

Dinner was a bit awkward at first considering that I got some looks from the boys sans Mickey and Liam. Carl looked like he was mainly curious about us; however, Lip and Ian looked like they had different ideas bubbling in their minds. Other than that, it was fine. They still engaged in table conversations that Fiona initiated.

Debbie was sitting between me and Mickey. She was still trying to improve her signs. She had her phone out, searching the internet for the signs for the food we were eating. Mickey tried hiding his smile when he saw Debbie’s finger wiggle in front of her lips. He gets a heartwarming joy out of someone trying to learn American Sign Language, and when he found out that Debbie was trying to learn it herself, he got a little happier.

Ian was learning it, too, but for the most part, the two boys usually communicated with the notebook they always had with them. So when Debbie had asked him, “Ian, what does this mean?” while actually doing the sign, he looked confused as hell.

Carl looked straight ahead at her and frowned. “You have worms in your lips?”

“No, you moron,” Debbie argued, “it means corn.” Ian and Mickey started chuckling under their breaths, and I’ll admit, it was kind of funny.

Fiona placed her fork down for a moment and glared at Debbie and Carl. “Debs, no phones at the table.”

Debbie pouted. “But I wanted to talk to Mickey.” I covered the smile that was growing on my face as I looked from her to my brother, who was uncontrollably blushing at the thought of Debbie wanting to sign.

“Well, I didn’t think that part of the plan was to bicker back and forth with your brother at the dinner table,” Fiona responded, taking Liam’s spoon to scoop up some sweet potatoes for him to eat.

Debbie started to poke a piece of steak with her fork before typing another word on her phone. “Wait, I want to find another word,” she said, taking a moment to think about what else she wanted to make Ian guess the word to. Once she found what she was looking for, she turned to Ian again. “Okay, what is this?” she asked before putting her index finger over her thumb and then pointing two fingers up ahead of her.

Ian watched her closely and shut his eyes in concentration. “Um… _watch_?”

Debbie shook her head. “You’re a little close, though.” She did the sign again, and Ian bit his bottom lip for a moment.

That’s when he started snapping his fingers when the word came to mind. “TV?” he replied, and Debbie clapped. Ian aimed a fist in the air with triumph, and Mickey started to giggle.

“The website said _television_ , but it’s the same thing.” Debbie added.

Fiona inched an eyebrow on her forehead, impressed, before glancing over at Mickey. “Why not ask the expert for another word?” she suggested, gesturing towards Mickey. I signed that for Mickey to understand now that he was very well in the conversation.

“Yeah, Mickey, give us another one,” Debbie spoke as I signed it for him.

He sighed for a moment before placing his fork down on his plate. He took a moment to think about another word, his eyes turning towards their corners as he noticed Ian next to him. His eyebrows shot up, a word in mind, before he brought his hands up towards his face, his fingers pressing in mid-air in front of it as his hands went down from his forehead to his chin.

“Face?” Carl asked. I shook my head, as did Mickey, and he did the sign again.

“It’s something _on_ your face…” Debbie responded, her eyes still trained on Mickey.

“Acne?” Ian asked, frowning in Mickey’s direction. Mickey deadpanned in his direction, and it took everything in me to not laugh at him. Mickey tapped Ian on his arm and pointed towards his face, and Ian formed an O shape with his mouth, finally understanding what he was referring to.

“Freckles?” Debbie spoke all of a sudden, and I gave her a high five.

I scooped up some sweet potatoes with a fork before smirking at Ian. “Did it really take you that long to figure it out, genius?” I asked him before eating my potatoes. He just eyed back at me with a sheepish grin.

And just like that, all my previous thoughts about hanging out with the Gallagher family went away. Truth is, being with the Gallaghers was the most fun I’ve had since we moved here. Mickey thought the same thing, I’m sure. They were actually taking the time to get to know him and understand him, and I know how much he loved that.

He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him in a while.

* * *

A couple of hours later, it was time for bed. Lip offered his sleeping bag to one of us just in case we didn’t want to be under the same covers – Mickey found it weird sometimes. Fiona then came in with two stacks of clothes, handing one to me and another to Mickey. “Ian and I found some clothes that we didn’t want anymore and washed them earlier today. Try these on and see if they fit. If they do, you can sleep in them tonight.”

I looked down at the pajama shirt Fiona gave me. It was a white sweatshirt, and the collar was large enough for my left shoulder to stick out of it. The sleeves were very thick, so I was guaranteed to be warm when I went to sleep. Accompanying the shirt was a pair of black yoga pants, which were equally as warm as the shirt.

This was all too generous of Fiona. She didn’t even have to take us in like that, but she did. She saw something in the both of us that made her do this. I’m not sure what, but she saw it. And now look at us. We’re literally taking hers and Ian’s old clothes and sleeping in them for the night – in the Gallagher house, I might add.

“Thank you, Fiona,” I finally spoke, gazing up at her. “Not just for the clothes, but…you know, for everything.”

Fiona nodded. “I care about you guys. I know what it’s like to have a really shitty childhood. This is my way of looking out for you.”

I nodded, taking her words into consideration. “I understand.”

She looked between me and Mickey. “Feel free to ask me anything you want. I’m all eyes and ears.” She somewhat teased, referring to Mickey mostly. “Goodnight.” With that, she was out of the room.

I started to get up off the bed, turning my head towards Mickey. I started laughing at him when I saw that he put his pajama shirt on. Imprinted on his shirt was Bart Simpson with an upside down cross on his forehead and stars drawn in his eyes. I thought it was pretty fucking hilarious that Ian even had that, but I knew Mickey was kind of embarrassed about it.

So my laughing subsided for a moment so I could look my brother in the eyes. I signed and spoke, the laughs threatening to come back. “Too bad Ian didn’t want his shirt anymore. He sure did have good taste.” Mickey flipped me off, and I giggled once again.

I reached over to Mickey and pinched his cheek, much to his annoyance. “It looks really cute on you, though.” I added, signing again before messing up his hair for a minute. He just gave me a scowl as I walked out of the room to the bathroom down the hall.

I had to mentally remind myself to thank Ian later on.

* * *

I had to mentally remind myself to slap Ian in the fucking face for this damn shirt. Sure, it’s big enough for me to move around in and be comfortable, but thanks to him, now Mandy’s literally strolling down the fucking hall laughing every time she’s thinking about me wearing this thing.

Still, it was nice of him for this. It was nice of him for a lot of things – well, all of the Gallaghers, really. I don’t know, he was the one I reached out to the most, in comparison to someone like Fiona or even Carl. Mandy encouraged me to interact with the others as well, and they’re not bad, really.

It’s just that something about Ian makes me closer to him than the others.

Actually, it’s not even just one thing. It’s a lot of things, if we’re being honest.

Mandy was finished in the bathroom, so I took my pants and the spare toothbrush that Fiona gave me earlier and headed to the bathroom. Before I made it there, though, Ian had came into view, heading in the same general direction, and I was suddenly flipping my shit.

In a good way, at least.

He didn’t have a shirt on – he was holding it, actually, but fuck, he didn’t have to put it on. His hair was a little wet, indicating that he had taken his shower before Mandy had gotten washed up.

Ian’s muscular upper body attracted me the most. The way his arms look rounded where the muscles were located made my throat tighten up a bit. They weren’t overly muscular or anything to the point where it looked like someone injected drugs in him or some shit, and they weren’t too thin, either; they were the perfect size.

Ian caught on to the fact that I was looking at him like some naïve school girl, and I caught him chuckle a bit. Fuck, it was embarrassing. I had this damn Simpsons shirt on looking like an idiot, and here I am drooling over Ian’s physique, with him questioning in his head if something was wrong with me or not.

Well, that’s what I thought.

He was contemplating on whether he should speak to me or not. This time I didn’t mind as much because I could read his lips a little.

Goddamn, his fucking lips. If I didn’t know any better, I would have told him that I actually missed the way they felt on mine. Hell, I secretly didn’t mind having that moment again.

Shit. I was stuck in my own thoughts. I knew because Ian had tapped me on the arm again. I snapped out of my gaze, and he giggled again. God, I liked his smile. He spoke again, and I carefully looked at his lips again, ignoring the now growing erection in my pants. “You have fun tonight?” he had asked me, and I nodded, still in a bit of a daze.

Ian nodded at me and mouthed, “good.” I gulped just eyeing him in the face. I was nervous about even doing anything because one of the other Gallaghers or even Mandy could come out and see us, but Ian was just making me feel a whole bunch of shit. He made me feel things that I probably wouldn’t have felt before. If I felt these things before with any other guy, I would have been pissed at myself for two reasons: one, I wouldn’t have believed or accepted that I was gay in the first place, especially since Ian was the one who convinced me that I should love myself or some shit in the first place; and two, because I wouldn’t have found them as attractive as Ian was anyway.

Wow. I called Ian Gallagher _attractive_. A lot has changed since I stepped foot in this house, and this has been one of the best changes my life has encountered.

I was taking a huge fucking risk by doing this in the hallway, but I stepped forward towards Ian, standing on my toes because holy fuck, he’s tall as shit. My lips caught onto Ian’s, and I kept them there for a moment before I actually started kissing him. He reciprocated, taking his hands and wrapping them around my waist. That was all it took for me to feel electricity shoot up and down my spine.

We broke the kiss for a moment, and I put my hand on his chest – his perfectly shaped fucking chest – and pushed him in the bathroom, closing the door behind us. No one needed to find out what we were doing in the hallway in the first place. When we were alone, I put a hand on his neck and started kissing him on the lips again. He responded by kissing me really hard. Like, really fucking hard.

This felt so fucking good. I wanted more of this. I needed more of this positive energy Ian was transferring. It was mixed in with how soft his lips were, which was blowing my mind considering how hard they pressed against mine. It was mixed in with how his hands were running over my body as they got lower and lower. He had some big fucking hands, too, which was blowing my mind. One of them found its way around my back side towards my ass, and I couldn’t help but moan a little.

Ian’s mouth left my lips and left kisses all on one side of my face towards my neck. He thrusted forward a little. His right leg was now rubbing up against my erection, and I could feel his erection against my own right leg. Shit, everything was so good, and I forgot how to stand properly. If it weren’t for him holding onto me, I would have fallen on my ass by now.

Unexpectedly, the hand that was still on my waist found its way up my shirt to touch my side. His fingers were really warm, as if he had washed his hands in warm water before he put them on my skin. That said hand reached up my shirt a little further until it found one of my nipples, caressing them as painfully slow as possible. The other hand found the edge of my pants, reaching the fingers inside and finding the skin on my butt. He did all this shit while kissing my damn neck, too. I swear I felt my knees buckle for a split second.

He removed his lips and hands off my body, and hell, it felt a little cold now. So this is what the loss of warmth felt like.

But he didn’t stop. No, he took my shirt off, and I just let him. I forgot that I was supposed to be beating his fucking ass for giving me this shirt, but I didn’t even give a damn anymore. Once my shirt was off, he undid the zipper and button on my pants, and I just let him. He was basically driving my fucking steering wheels here already, so I just let him undress me too.

Once I was down to my boxers, he brought his lips back to my neck, sucking in the same spot he had previously been in. I was going to have to suffer the consequences in the morning if the mark was there, but right now, I was too absorbed in Ian’s positive energy. Seriously, my dick was still twitching as he moved around on my body.

Speaking of moving around, he placed more slow kissed around my collar bone before going down to place some on my chest. When he got back to my nipples, he used his tongue instead of his fingers, and I felt myself moaning a little louder. I really tried my best to keep it down, though, because other people could easily heard what was going on in here.

Ian had a really powerful fucking tongue. My mind was still blown, really. The way it just moved around on my chest down to my stomach and eventually to my groin was fantastic. I had been imagining Ian’s mouth on me before, but now that it’s happening, I still can’t believe it.

At one moment, he had stopped. I felt someone knock on the door behind me, and my heart started racing. Someone had been standing on the other side of the door, probably hearing us kissing or some shit. This was one of the disadvantages of being deaf; there were times were you thought no one heard you doing something when, in reality, they were.

This was one of those times.

Ian briefly looked at me with startled eyes for a second, holding a finger in front of his lips, signaling for me to keep quiet, before his eyes fell upon the door. He was calling to someone on the other side, most likely trying to get them away from the door as best as possible. My eyes didn’t leave his face as I waited to see what would happen next.

A minute or so later, Ian looked at me again. He had mouthed something. “It was Carl.” Shit, I definitely didn’t want to see what would happen if he walked in and saw what we were doing.

I didn’t know I was holding a breath in, either, until Ian chuckled at me again. His hand went back to my cheek, and I saw him say something else. “Maybe we should find a different hiding spot.” Yeah, we probably should.

He leaned into me again, kissing me slower than he had before. It was softer, too, and I felt myself melting into it. We could have gone further than we were going right now, but Ian had broken the kiss again, looking at me one last time before slapping my ass. Before, I would have punched him for it. Now, I probably would have died because of it.

“Sleep tight,” he told me before smirking and exiting out the bathroom into his own room.

I looked down at the floor once the door was closed behind me again. The pajama shirt he loaned me was wrinkled and tossed by my feet, as well as the pajama pants and the spare toothbrush I brought to the bathroom with me. Ian’s kiss marks were embedded on my skin now, and if we’re being honest here, I didn’t want to wash them off. I needed a shower so bad, but Ian’s kiss marks would be washed off if I did that.

After a moment, I reluctantly gave in and washed up for bed. The spray from the shower felt equally good, but it didn’t have jack compared to Ian’s lips. The water was nice and warm, though – a tad warmer than Ian’s mouth – so that was kind of a bonus.

I left the bathroom after I showered and brushed my teeth, and when I went into what Fiona referred to as the Gallagher guest room, Mandy was already asleep. I guess she didn’t really hear us in there after all, though I kind of wondered if she was thinking about how long it took me to come out of the bathroom. Lip’s sleeping bag was underneath the covers she was sleeping under, and I climbed in it, pulling the layers of warmth over my shoulders.

And for the rest of the night, my body wouldn’t stop tingling from the thought of Ian’s lips, and my brain wouldn’t stop flashing images of his face as I drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a happy wonderful birthday to the lovely and talented Emmy Rossum. She's an amazing ray of sunshine, and I thank her for being the awesome little doll she is. :)


	22. Mickey's Hickey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "To be honest, I want our thing to be secret for a little while. Besides, like I said before, no one else knows what we have…whatever it even is. I don’t even know what Ian and I are, and I want it hidden from the rest of the world."

That had to have been the best fucking sleep I’ve ever had. For once, I’m not waking up after a night of terror with my old man, and it makes me feel so alive.

When I turned around towards the window, the sun was literally burning my damn eyes, and I already knew that I was waking up later than the others. For all I knew, it was probably ten in the morning, and I almost slept until the afternoon. I’d say that this is an advantage and a disadvantage to being deaf, if you ask me – an advantage, because I wouldn’t be waking up to someone screaming in my fucking ears; and a disadvantage, because I would have wasted most of the day sleeping without realizing that I had other stuff to do.

I didn’t want to leave the bed because I was already too comfortable where I was, but my stomach was grumbling. Mandy had long left the room already and was most likely eating with the Gallaghers downstairs.

After washing up, I met almost all of them walking around in the kitchen. Ian, Lip, and Carl were sitting at the table, practically done with their food; Debbie was feeding Liam right next to her, an empty plate with random scraps abandoned on the side; Mandy was putting the orange juice back in the fridge; and Fiona was about to take a biscuit off one of the plates on the table before she saw me. She had somewhat of a genuine look on her face as she greeted me. I think she said something along the lines of “good morning, sleepy head.”

So I must have been out for that long, huh?

I turned to Mandy, who had made her way over to me. She had signed, “Must have been knocked the fuck out; you were literally kicking my damn hamstrings. What, you were running a dream or something?”

Rolling my eyes, I made my way past her to grab a plate off the counter. I was unaware that Mandy had made her way over when I had grabbed some bacon off the frying pan. She grabbed my shoulder and was focused on something on me.

It wasn’t until her eyebrows shot up on her forehead and her mouth formed a smile that she knew something was up.

God, I am so busted.

Mandy signed to me again. “Is that a hickey, Mickey?” She was fucking teasing me, and I really hated when she did that. Every time it happened, she got more and more annoying.

I tried ignoring her and went to grabbing some eggs, but she still continued right beside me. I could feel the intense heat creeping up my neck as she kept blabbering about it to Fiona and the others. From the corner of my eye, I could see her grinning at me, and I tried everything in me to not slap her across the face with this plate in my hand.

Mandy had turned me around momentarily and signed, “so who’s the lucky sucker?”

I gritted my teeth and signed back. “There isn’t anyone. You can fuck off now.”

“Well, you can’t do all of that to yourself, now can you?”

She had a point. Regardless, she doesn’t have my permission to receive a name of the culprit who gave me these things.

Not yet, at least.

After grabbing a couple pieces of sausages that were left on the counter, I walked passed Mandy to take a seat next to Carl. Ian sat across from me, and I swear, I noticed him secretly grin in my direction. Sly fucker.

I have gotten used to being around Ian and everything, and every time I see him or bring him up somewhere in my brain, my body won’t cooperate for the life of it. This shit, however, wasn’t going to slide. None of his siblings know what we’ve been up to, and neither does Mandy. They’re already suspecting something, thanks to Mandy’s rat ass, and I’m not even sure how long I can keep up the charade before either I or Ian cracks.

And that’s the thing: I don’t want Ian to crack. I can keep up appearances and shit whenever I want and however long I want to, but Ian is a whole other story. Like, he’s just so damn open about everything, unlike me. He came from a family that not only wants every detail about every fucking thing, but also doesn’t mind _telling_ every fucking thing. The Milkoviches were always taught to keep our shit inside. We can’t express feelings and shit, rat out on each other if the police are involved, or just get other people engaged in our personal stuff.

To be honest, I want our thing to be secret for a little while. Besides, like I said before, no one else knows what we have…whatever it even is. I don’t even know what Ian and I are, and I want it hidden from the rest of the world.

Are we still friends? Do friends let friends kiss you on the lips and leave hickeys on your neck? Do friends let friends dry hump you on their bathroom door with their siblings in different areas of the house?

I never had a friend before, let alone a _best_ friend. Mandy doesn’t count, partially because she’s my sister, though she considers us as best friends. I don’t know why; our interests contradict each other. Other than that, Ian’s the first real friend I ever had. Can you still be friends and shit like that when elements like kissing and dry humping are involved? Does Ian even consider me as a friend – or a _best_ friend, for that matter?

I don’t know. I’m so fucking confused.

I need to know. I need to figure this shit out before this goes any further than expected. I need Ian to know, too. Ian has to give me something; I’m getting tired of being left in the dark.

* * *

Ian had to work today, which was a shock since it’s still the fucking weekend. He showed up again about four hours later, and I was already in his room, having already agreed to play with Liam a bit while Fiona had gone to the diner. When Ian saw me, he greeted me with a wave, and I suddenly felt something swim in my stomach. It was probably the bacon from breakfast. Or maybe that shit people say they feel when they get nervous: fucking butterflies.

Ignoring how cheesy that sounded in my head, I stood up off the floor, leaving Liam to play with his toys and whatnot, and grabbed Ian’s attention. He sat on the edge of his bed, and I joined him, the notebook in one hand and my pen in another. I didn’t start writing right away due to the nerves that were getting the better of me. Ian started to get confused the more he looked at me, so I just decided to begin.

“What are we?”

It probably sounded random to Ian, but I needed to know what exactly we are. Ian didn’t make it any easier, though; all he did was write back, “what do you think we are?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “Obviously neighbors, but…I can’t tell if we’re just friends or not.”

Ian shrugged before writing back. “We _are_ friends, Mick.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I sighed for a moment, biting my bottom lip as I stared down at the paper on my lap. I gulped before looking over towards the corner of my eye, watching Ian glance over at me. The sight itself made this whole conversation more nerve-wracking than it was supposed to be.

However, I do feel relieved that he considered us as friends.

“We kissed…and more than once,” I continued. “We’ve been doing it multiple times. Not, like, sex or anything – just the making out and stuff. And we’ve been doing it when no one else knew or anything, right?” I stopped and looked at Ian, receiving a confirmation in the form of his head nod. “Don’t get me wrong or anything. I’m still adjusting to all of this, the whole…being gay thing. I…I don’t know, I kind of like it, when you touch me and stuff. But…”

Ian didn’t make a move to grab the paper, and honestly, I was this close to ripping my head off. I wanted to ask this question the proper way, and I wanted a proper answer to it all, but I don’t know what I really want.

Thankfully, Ian had taken the notebook out of my grasp and asked it for me. “But you’re confused as to where this is all going, right?”

I could finally breathe knowing that the tension was released from my shoulders.

When he saw me nod, he continued to write. “Can I be honest with you, Mickey?” he asked me, and I nodded again. “I like you. Like, I _really_ like you, and I’m not just saying these things to make some kind of new impression of myself or anything like that after we’ve gotten to know each other as neighbors.” He had stopped for a moment, probably in order to form a more elaborate response.

“I felt that I made a mistake when I kissed you the first time, but I couldn’t help myself,” he continued. “You’re a really funny, interesting, and amazing guy. Whenever you smile or laugh, for whatever reason, I have to smile back. You’re willing to get along with the rest of my family, and that shows how much I think about you in terms of your own family. You live with some careless people, sure; but that didn’t stop you from doing all you could to show them how much _you_ care. Your dad was, and still is, a senseless asshole, but you at least obeyed him despite the response you’d get. Hell, look at Mandy. Like you said, she’s your little sister. You’d do anything to make sure she’s all in one piece, wouldn’t you?”

I couldn’t believe what Ian was telling me. He had all of these ideas about me locked up in his head somewhere, and he was able to write it all down in front of me. It’s like he was actually writing a damn book about me, and it makes me go insane at how much he’s been thinking about me.

“There are so many great things about you, Mick, and on my end, I could say that, you know, I…I want us to be something. It can be anything you want, and I’ll go along with it. I know you’re pretty conflicted about us being in a relationship or anything like that, what with your dad coming to that conclusion as more hints get dropped or whatever. As much as I want to actually be with you in that regard, I want whatever makes you feel okay, too.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Ian actually wanted to be in a _relationship_ with me.

I mean, I kind of expected something like that after the kiss before I went AWOL and shit like that, but seeing the words written on the paper in his handwriting made it all so real. He was feeling something stronger than just a friendship between us. I didn’t know how, but I got nervous and happy all of a sudden from knowing that.

At the same time, though, he was trying to look out for me. He knew how fucking scared I was. I don’t like having my business and shit out there like that, and if Dad found out I was gay, there was no telling what he’d do to me. I’m honestly praying to get kicked out of the house, though, so I won’t have to suffer through his bullshit any longer. And once I’m out, I could always take Mandy with me, and we could start a life away from our shitty one.

Ian was right; I really cared about my sister a lot, regardless of how much she got on my nerves.

My eyes found Ian’s immediately, and I got a little worried. I’m worried about whether Ian really meant that he’d be okay if I said we should be just friends, or that he’ll be affected by that somehow. Like he said, I wouldn’t mind either way; we could be fucking minions or whatever, and I’d be cool with it because I’d still have Ian by my side. But something inside me wanted more than that without having to suffer through any consequences.

Too bad something like that can’t happen in the South Side of Chicago.

Ian started writing again. “What are you thinking about, Mickey?” He could read me like a damn book. He knew that I wasn’t responding as quickly as intended, but I needed a minute to figure this shit out.

I reached for the notebook and wrote something down. “You…you want to be in a relationship with me?” I had asked him, and he nodded. When he saw me trying to form another sentence in my head, he took the notebook back and wrote some more.

“My feelings won’t get hurt if you say that you don’t,” Ian replied, “but if we’re being honest here, my heart starts racing when I’m around you.”

My eyes opened a little bit wider at the statement. Ian felt that much for me, and I could feel my own heart racing a little faster at the thought. He took one of his hands and reached for one of mine, bringing it up to the left side of his chest and placing it flat onto the thin layer of fabric. It was a little faint to the touch, but I recognized right away when there were fast, little thumps against Ian’s chest.

Holy shit.

My arm started to shake a little, and my breath hitched a bit. I could feel how Ian was feeling, and damn, did I want it to continue or what?

I removed my hand, a little quicker than expected, but when I did, my eyes fell upon Ian’s again out of amazement. My own heart started to thump against my chest, hard. If it didn’t stop now, it probably would have pierced through my rib cage or some shit.

I slowly started to sign to him, “I like you,” in a complete daze because the reality of everything going on between us was very overwhelming. Then I noticed Ian write something a couple of lines underneath his previous sentence.

“I’m still trying to get better at the signing thing, you know?” I sheepishly chuckled to myself, and he smiled back at me. Shit, I’m head over heels for this guy.

I took the notebook back and wrote back to him. “Sorry,” I stated. “I said that I like you. I do. But…” I stopped for a moment, biting my bottom lip before I continued my response. “I was wondering if we could keep this thing going between us, but…you know, without letting anyone know just yet.”

“You mean, you want to be my boyfriend?” Ian inquired. He frowned with some sort of uncertainty. He didn’t believe what I was telling him, either. Hell, I never believe half of the stuff that I say to people, so it was understandable.

Finally, after a few seconds of pondering, I responded back. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

When he saw that, he smiled at me. I bowed my head and smiled back. Ian noticed how timid I must have been feeling at that moment, because he had taken his hand up towards my chin and turned my head so I was facing him. That was literally the best fucking view I’ve ever gotten. Ian’s eyes were nice and green. Just everything about this guy was amazing, and I wanted to explore it as much as I could.

Ian leaned forward and kissed me on the lips, and I reciprocated it. We shared a soft kiss that lasted for about a few seconds before I leaned away. Something came up in my head that I didn’t want to forget, so I added it to the sheet of notebook paper. “And you’re gonna really have to stop leaving hickeys in places where people can see them.”

And Ian, being the little jerk that he is, smirked at me after he finished writing a reply. “What’s the matter? You don’t like them?” He laughed when he caught me stale facing him.

God, he was an asshole, but I still fucking like him.

* * *

I was over the moon for the rest of the day. Mickey actually confessed to me that he wanted to be my boyfriend. The thought has been swimming through my brain all day long, and the feeling of it just felt so good. Something inside me has been released from its cage and is flying around in my stomach whenever I see Mickey now. I couldn’t fucking believe it.

I couldn’t let any of the other Gallaghers know, though. Mickey’s still kind of in the closet, and I don’t want to make him upset or anything. Hopefully there will be a day where he can face everyone and state who he truly is, but for right now, I want him to be as comfortable with this relationship thing as possible.

Earlier today after we made our secret relationship official, I had a thought lingering in the back of my head: what do boyfriends even do with each other? I never had an official boyfriend before. The guys I kissed previously doesn’t count since I never had a real attraction to them, and Kash has a wife and kids. Do they just do guy things, like play video games and chase each other with Nerf guns?

I decided on doing the former with Mickey when it got later in the day. I didn’t want this day to end, but I had school tomorrow, and I wanted to have a little fun before the school day started up again. Mickey was actually lucky and unlucky at the same time – unlucky because his dad never got him to go to school because he thought his hearing loss made him incapable of learning, and lucky because he got to lounge around whenever he wanted to while everyone else has 8 a.m. classes.

I just hope Mickey can manage being here by himself, with his dad still out there and all.

Mickey and I had plugged up the Playstation so we could play _Call of Duty: Modern Warfare_ when Mandy had joined us momentarily after. “The hell are you nerds doing over there?” she called from the archway that led into the kitchen.

“Beating your brother’s ass,” I replied as casually as possible, knowing that Mickey was probably glaring at me.

Mandy smirked at me. “Looks like you’re gonna need an ally to whip this pussy into shape, Ian Gallagher.” She had signed it, too, indicating that she was making fun of her brother from afar. I turned towards Mickey and saw him angrily signing back, and I started to laugh a little. I actually thought it was cute when Mickey and Mandy bickered back and forth like the siblings they are.

Mandy plopped down on the couch on my left and grabbed one of the other spare controllers that was sitting in front of the television. Just when I was about to select one of my characters, Carl came downstairs and stood behind the couch. “Can I play?” he had asked.

I turned around to face him a little. “Sure. Join Mickey.”

Mandy chuckled. “Yeah, his sorry ass is going to need all the help he can get.” She laughed when Mickey threw a pillow in her direction.

Carl took the last spare controller and sat on the floor between my leg and Mickey’s. That’s when the four of us all started the first game. Carl and I had already shot a couple of bad guys from afar, and Mickey was still trying to figure out how to work the controller. Mandy was making her character run all over the place, all while screaming, “get out of my way, you douchebags!”

Mickey, from the corner of my eye, frowned a bit at the controller and then at the television screen. He looked a little confused as to what he was supposed to do, and it showed during the actual gameplay. He was the first one out of all of us to die.

Mandy started laughing out of nowhere. “Well, you made it easier on the both of us, didn’t you Mick?” she asked while signing in his direction. Mickey just shook his head and frowned.

Carl stood up off the floor, eyes still focused on the game, and sat on the couch beside Mickey. He took his controller and brought him back in the game again. He only looked away for a moment to get Mickey’s attention. “Press this,” he directed, pointing to the button with the circle on it, and he did. That was when his character had killed one of the bad guys that was about to shoot him in the face.

Both Carl and Mickey smiled in triumph. Game night with just the four of us was going well so far.

We had played that game for nearly an hour and a half before Fiona called us and told us we had to sleep since it was a school night. Mandy and I won a couple of rounds – about nine, to be exact – but Mickey and Carl weren’t too far behind. They worked pretty well together, and Mickey was actually getting better at the game itself. I could tell because, when I had gotten up to head up to the bedroom and retrieve my pajamas, Carl looked from me to Mandy and Mickey down the hall and shouted, “I declare a rematch. We could beat you guys if we wanted.”

Carl was getting used to Mickey already, like he was another brother to him. Likewise, Mickey was well adjusting with him, as he was with Debbie the other evening. I couldn’t stop smiling at the thought.

I had stepped into the shower by the time Debbie was done with the bathroom. All of my day clothes were thrown on the floor, and I stepped underneath the hot spray, rubbing my hands and fingers all over my skin before I reached for the body wash.

Out of nowhere, I heard the bathroom door open. I could have fallen down on the bathtub floor at that moment, but thank God that my hand was against the wall. I poked my head from behind the shower curtains and saw Mickey getting his toothbrush and some toothpaste. He probably didn’t know that I was in the shower, and trying to reach him from where I stood was going to be difficult considering that I’m bare naked.

Luckily, I didn’t have to do anything; he must have seen me from the corner of his eye, because he whirled around, almost startled at the sight of me. He signed something, backing up towards the bathroom toilet. I assumed that he was apologizing for walking in like that, but I didn’t take offense to it, really.

I shook my head in his direction and mouthed, “no, it’s fine. Carry on.”

For some odd reason, it felt like I was tempting his decision on whether he should stay in the bathroom any longer or not. Mickey was trying to get a better look of my chest from where I hid it behind the curtains, and a part of me wanted to know where this was going.

So I went back to tending to my own body. I took some of the body wash and rubbed it in my hands a bit before rubbing it all over my chest, soap suds forming on the muscles on my chest and stomach as the water came in contact with it.

As my hands got closer to my groin, I heard the shower curtain shift a little, and I knew Mickey was watching me. I smirked, trying to push back the humor I was getting out of this.

My head slowly turned, catching a glimpse of Mickey trying to look away from me. I crept over to where he stood, still in the shower, and placed my hand on his chin, making an attempt to get him to look at me. When he did, he seemed like he was at a loss of words. His jaw had dropped a little in my hand, and his eyes were glancing from my body to my eyes and back.

“All you gotta do is ask next time,” I mouthed, a little seductively, smirking in the process. That was all it took before Mickey reached up towards my lips and captured them with his.

We stood like that for about five minutes, and I allowed Mickey to run his hands over my wet body, as far down as my waist. I could feel myself melting at the taste of toothpaste on Mickey’s tongue as I stuck my own tongue in his mouth.

However, the moment was ruined when I heard Carl knock on the bathroom door from the other side. “Yo Ian, other fishes in the sea, remember?”

Mickey and I really needed another place to do this.

“I’ll be out in a few minutes!” I called. The sound of footsteps from the hallway indicated that Carl was heading back to the room. I turned to Mickey, giving him one last kiss prior to mouthing, “don’t let them know you’re in here.” Mickey nodded at me before backing away, opening the bathroom door and checking me out a little before disappearing completely.

The idea of a secret relationship sounded a little more interesting than I anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I did this chapter as much justice as I wanted to, but I didn't want to leave you guys hanging, either. Unfortunately, I got sick before the weekend started, which was making it harder for me to type the story. And I know I'm late as hell, but Emma Kenney turned 16, and I just had to give her a shout-out because everything about her is amazing.
> 
> Also, if I don't update before the weekend is over, it's most likely because I'm still anxiously waiting for all of my shows to come back on next week (Gotham, Empire, and HTGAWM), as well as Scream Queens. I started watching Gotham a couple of months ago because Cameron, as you all know, is Jerome on that show, and he appears again in S2. So I'm excited about that.
> 
> Anyways, if you liked the story/chapter update, feel free to write any and all comments you have. Have a wonderful weekend, all.


	23. Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It’s not like I want this baby or anything; I’m still in school, and I need to get my life together so I can get Mickey and I out of the South Side and build a better life for us. But thinking about Fiona putting this situation in her hands feels overwhelmingly incredible."

The weekend was now over, and I’m literally forced to drag myself out of the bed to get ready for school. Mandy and Lip had to suffer with me in high school, and Debbie and Carl did as well in middle school. Fiona had her job at Patsy’s Pies to take care of for most of the day while we were gone, and that left Mickey to tend to Liam for the day, as Fiona previously decided.

It was nice knowing that Mickey won’t be completely alone since he had Liam; however, there was still enough room for danger to occur, and I was anxious as to what could possibly happen while we were all out. Mickey was, too. I knew he was the moment I told him that Mandy and I had school today. He did a good job hiding it for a while, but seeing Fiona rush everyone downstairs and packing their lunches and whatnot had him dreading the moment everyone was out the door.

I tried a little bit to ease the tension he was holding inside. I lightly kicked his leg underneath the table to grab his attention, and when he looked in my direction, I signed something to him that I learned from Mandy’s ASL book. “Scared?” I asked, sticking my bottom lip out just to mess with him a little. Mickey flipped me off, and I laughed silently as I saw his neck get a little red from embarrassment.

My hand found his leg and started rubbing it out of comfort. However, Mickey seemed to have gotten another message out of it, because his eyebrow inched on his forehead before his hand started reaching for my lap – for the opposite reason.

I bit my bottom lip when I felt his hand on my crotch. The way this table conversation escalated – if it’s still a conversation, that is – was astounding. Mickey wasn’t entirely okay with letting other people know what was going on between us, but that didn’t stop him from trying things out with me and vice versa.

When the sexual tension started to build up from there, however, I knew it had to stop sooner or later. My siblings were never gonna hear the end of how I had an orgasm while everyone was eating breakfast. So I pinched Mickey on his arm, and he flinched at the contact. I started to giggle under my breath before he pinched me back. He tried his best to hide his smile, but it didn’t help since I already noticed it.

“Fucking douchebags,” Mandy mumbled under her breath as she ate the last of her breakfast. “Why not get a room or something while you’re at it?”

I wasn’t going to question how she even came up with any assumptions related to me and Mickey, because then the secret would be long out, and I’m positive that Mickey would throw his entire plate at my head.

Fiona was done preparing the lunches and reminded all of us that we had to be out the door in about less than fifteen minutes. Mandy and I collected all of the plates at the table once Debbie, Carl, and Liam were finished. Mickey was left with his breakfast plate in front of him, and it’s clear that the humor that was shown on his face moments ago dissipated.

“You get that shit they were trying to ask us from that Chemistry packet?” Mandy asked as she brought her backpack strap over her shoulder.

I shrugged. “I’m basically on the same level with that as my math assignments, and trust me, that’s not going anywhere.”

Mandy smirked. “You’re so fucked for life, Gallagher.”

“Is that right?”

“I mean, you’re not the only one in the world who can’t sit around and fuck with trig problems,” she explained, “but this shit is gonna come back and bite you in the ass.”

“You’re telling me.” I chuckled. “Lip’s been helping, though. He’s the brainiac in our family.”

Lip must have overheard our conversation, because he came in the living room with Liam in his arms, goofing off with the little kid and whatnot before joining us. “Don’t push it,” he replied, handing Liam his Lego train to play with. “You don’t see a lot of Einsteins in this city.”

“Not like you, anyway,” I added.

“We’ll see what happens when I come back from the Narnia universe and I’m still surviving on food stamps and community service.” Lip adjusted Liam in his arms before placing the kid on his feet on the wooden floor, and Liam went straight to the couch to play with his train again.

I turned towards Mandy and noticed a look appearing on her face after Lip said that. She hasn’t gotten to know Lip as much as I would have liked her to, but I know somewhere inside, she has some type of concern for him. It was hard to tell this early in our friendship, but somehow, I could see it.

A lot of people around her, she and Mickey included, would have this one thing that ends up being the best thing about them until some circumstance causes them to lose it. Mandy and Mickey lost their mother, and their mother lost her own life. Who knows what else was lost, really?

Fiona exited the kitchen, with Debbie and Carl in tow, handing Mandy, Lip, and I our lunches. “I’m leaving Liam over here so Mickey can watch him for us,” she stated. She eyed both me and Mandy. “You two keep your phones on and make sure you’re up to date on anything that happens. I’ll have mine on, too.”

As I pulled out my phone and checked the battery percentage, Lip spoke up. “And who’s going to be watching Mickey?” he asked out of curiosity. “I mean, we’re kind of taking him and Mandy in so their asshole dad doesn’t find them or anything, right?”

“Yes, I am aware of that,” Fiona answered. “I talked with Mickey about this earlier, with Mandy’s help. He’s gonna stay in the house and watch Liam, as promised. And I reminded him to keep the doors and windows locked, and to not go outside.”

Fiona eyed her phone screen for a second before placing it back in her pocket and turning her attention towards Mandy. “I’m going to try and see if I can get you out a little early for a hospital visit, so Ian and Lip will most likely be walking without you today.” Mandy nodded, gripping hard onto her backpack strap.

“Mandy’s getting rid of the baby?” Debbie asked curiously.

Fiona sighed. “Eventually, Debs.” Not even a second later, she patted both Debbie and Carl on the backs. “Alright, guys. School, now. Don’t wanna be late.” Lip and I led Mandy, Debbie, and Carl down the street, leaving Fiona in the house to do a final check-in with Mickey and Liam before she headed to the restaurant for work.

* * *

The house was much emptier now that everyone was gone. I never knew that it could be like this in the Gallagher house other than at night when everyone is asleep.

Actually, if I’m being really honest here, it’s kind of boring without some kind of action around here. Liam is a damn toddler, so we wouldn’t really have a lot of things in common except for our tastes in food, probably, and our need to sleep for most of the day – though for me, that’s not an option since I’m supposed to be watching the kid.

Speaking of which, Liam came in the kitchen with a coloring sheet in his hand, showing me the picture of the lion he colored. I already knew that lions weren’t capable of being fucking red or blue or whatever in real life, but he was very artistic at a young age.

The part that especially sucks about watching Liam is the fact that I can’t even have a normal conversation with him. It was easier with someone like Mandy, Debbie, and even Ian because they knew that sign language actually existed. Then you have someone like Liam, who’s vocabulary consisted of words and phrases like _toy store_ , _dinosaurs_ , and _rockets_ , yet was too young to understand what I was going through. So trying to compliment his work was really hard, and it made me feel so fucking bad for some reason.

I stood up from the kitchen stool and picked him up, placing him in my lap as I got a better look at the picture one more time. The little boy in my lap looked up at me, and I nodded, forcing a smile on my face. He started clapping, and I eased up a little bit.

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t _that_ bad.

Liam climbed off my lap and ran back in the living room only to run back with a notebook with a bunch of drawings on it. He opened it to the page where he drew his whole family on it, and on the left side of the page were two figures with darker hair than the others.

And I knew that he drew me and Mandy right off the bat.

Liam considered us to be a part of the family, and that was pretty fucking huge coming from a toddler. We’ve only been over here for a couple of weeks, but he’s gotten used to us faster than I, and maybe even Mandy, have gotten used to him. It made me realize how much little time I’ve actually spent with the other Gallaghers other than Ian.

But a part of me felt like that was just my nature. I mean, I’m deaf, of course, added to the fact that I never went to public school like Mandy did. So interacting with other people wasn’t, and still isn’t, my strongest suit. Truth is, I want to meet more people and have more friends and stuff outside of Mandy, Ian, and the Gallaghers, but I’m kinda fucking scared.

That’s right. Me, Mickey Milkovich is scared of something – and no, that does not include getting murdered by my dad by any means necessary.

I’m scared of what other people will say behind my back when they find out that I can’t communicate the way they do. I’ve signed in public to other people before. If not that, I would point to my ears, trying to pass on the hint that I couldn’t hear what they were fucking saying. Those people either never talked to me again or would stand their asses in front of me and whisper things to their friends, unaware that I could read lips.

And I was younger than I am now – around the age of ten or eleven, to be precise. Mandy would always ask me why I never went out to join her with any of her friends after that, and I kept giving her the cold shoulder on the topic. Not just her, but a few of my brothers as well. Iggy was the only one who took the time to understand me, even if by a little bit. The older ones would either not give a shit or do like my father does and mouth things slowly in front of me like I’m fucking retarded.

Now, things were different. When Ian found out that I was deaf, he didn’t stop talking to me or treat me any differently. He just…tried. Yeah, he tried to reach out to me, and even though he didn’t know much sign language, we used the notebook to communicate. It was kind of our thing, really, since Mandy was usually around me when I tried talking to the other Gallaghers. Sometimes she’ll do it with Ian, too, but for the most part, Ian and I kept it between the two of us.

And that…that just felt so fucking good, having someone you can talk to in private. It felt like I actually had a friend, aside from the idea that Ian and I established that we’re boyfriends now.

Liam was shaking me on the shoulder a bit, and he made a pouty face at me. I wasn’t sure what he really wanted since he didn’t elaborte much yet, but the sight of his hand on his stomach indicated that the little guy was getting hungry. I’m not a cook or anything like Fiona is, but I wasn’t going to let the little guy starve, either. So I took him off my lap and started making a ham sandwich for him.

We ate there in the kitchen for about a few minutes, with Liam showing me some of his action figures and using them to create some messed-up battle between each other. Eventually, Liam had left the dinner table and ran up the stairs. I started to follow him until I saw the juice carton on the counter suddenly explode.

It was then when I turned towards the window closest to the back door that I noticed a bullet hole and someone standing outside the window.

Fuck.

I bent down and tried hiding underneath the table until the coast was clear. My eyes shut closed, praying to whoever was out there that Dad wasn’t here to murder me or some shit. The odds weren’t in my favor, though; after all, who the hell would show up to the Gallagher house shooting damn bullets through their windows while everyone was gone?

Dad was the only possible suspect.

Potted plants started falling on the ground by the window. Whoever the hell it was somehow managed to get the damn window open, and it took everything in me to not yell.

Some guy’s feet were visible from where I was sitting. He looked a lot skinnier than my dad was. He didn’t move once he made it through the window, but all of a sudden, he started to bend down and scan his eyes towards me. He started speaking a little slowly, but I was too creeped out to comprehend it all. Finally, he shoved the entire damn table to the side in his attempts to grab me.

I tried my best to get away, but his hold on my forearm was too strong. Eventually, he threw punches my way, adding some kicks once I was well on the floor again. For a brief moment, he stopped, and I took several moments to regain some of the oxygen I lost. The back of my knees, my waist, my stomach, and my nose were all hurting at once, and I could barely move.

A different pair of feet came into view, and I only looked up for two seconds and realized that it was Dad. The guy that beat me up probably unlocked the back door for him.

Dad grabbed onto the collar of my shirt, bringing my face towards his as he bent down to look at me. He was furious. Crease lines formed on his forehead as he glared out of betrayal. It didn’t take me long to figure out that he knew that Fiona called the cops on him, and this was his way of taking the anger out on me before he went back to going on the down-low.

I saw him speak, but my head was throbbing from the pain that other dude put on me. Before I could clearly understand what he was saying, Dad slapped me hard across the face and started kicking me several times. At this point, my bottom lip was trembling and moisture in my eyes threatened to escape. But I couldn’t let them. It’s like Dad always preached: Milkoviches don’t cry.

Nothing happened afterwards, and I assumed that Dad and his ally had left the Gallagher house to find a place to hide from the police. When I realized they were gone, I felt a tear fall down my cheek and onto the floor. Some blood from my nose was down there, too, but I didn’t have it in me to get up and get some toilet paper to wipe it up.

I felt so fucking useless. I can’t even sit at home and watch someone’s kid without allowing danger to occur. I was only glad that Liam had gone upstairs to play or whatever, because then I would have to explain to Fiona and the Gallaghers everything that happened, and Liam could have received some kind of serious injury.

But even if Liam was okay, he still wasn’t in a safe environment. He was only steps away from witnessing a man with a gun in his hands and fists of steel, and I’ll be damned if Dad’s grubby hands got on that little kid. The Gallaghers aren’t my blood family, but they’re closer to family than Dad ever was.

* * *

“Mandy Milkovich?” a woman in a lavendar sweater called from around the corner.

My leg had been shaking within the past couple of minutes sitting in the waiting area, and when my name was called, I was actually relieved that I would be getting this shit over with.

Fiona had gone in with me, her hand massaging my left shoulder as he walked into the office. She didn’t have to do this with me; she could have just went along with working at her job and left me to deal with the consequences at school, where rumors tended to fly anyways.

But she did, and I was more than grateful for her to do so.

I sat on the cot in the room, and Fiona sat in an empty chair beside the doctor’s desk. The lady in question, Dr. Arnold, had already started asking questions, and it hasn’t even been fifteen seconds since we’ve been in here. “So Mandy,” she began, “you’ve been given this appointment today because you want an abortion. Is that correct?” I nodded.

“And can you remind me of the given situation here?”

I folded my hands in my lap and looked down the entire time. I was too ashamed to recall anything that happened. Every time I think about that night Dad got drunk and had his way with me, all I could ask myself was, why were you too fucking dumb and useless not to get out of that room and call someone for help? Maybe then, I wouldn’t be in the clinic talking to someone about my home problems.

“Mandy?” the doctor grabbed my attention, and that’s when I knew I was stuck in my own head.

I gulped and eventually spoke. “My Dad…he had, um…” The stutters that came out of my mouth were so fucking embarrassing. “He had raped me.” I felt some tears trying to get out of my eyes, but I couldn’t further embarrass myself in a room with a professional looking over at me. For some reason, I could feel Fiona’s eyes on me, and I knew that she was about as sad for me as I was.

There was an uncomfortable silence before the doctor turned her direction towards Fiona. “Does she live with her father, do you know?”

“She did,” Fiona confirmed. “Um, actually, I had agreed to let Mandy and her older brother stay with us until the feds track their father down.”

“And she and her brother are the only ones in the home besides their father?”

“Yes.”

There were only a few mentions of Mickey in their conversation, but all it made me think about was what he was up to back at the house and whether he and Liam were okay by themselves or not.

“Are you a guardian or relative of Mandy’s?”

“No, I’m her next-door neighbor. She goes to school with two of my younger brothers.”

“They don’t have any other family members or relatives to contact?”

“We tried figuring out our options over the weekend,” Fiona explained, “but most of Mandy’s family were either out of the city, out of the state, or were incapable or unavailable. Or even all of the above.”

“Well, we need a parent or a guardian of hers to assist with the medical information before we can proceed with the abortion process.”

“Her father is abusive, unfit to qualify, and probably still out on the loose somewhere,” Fiona defended, “and their mother passed away years ago.”

“Does she have any older siblings? Any of them would qualify for parental responsibility, especially if they’re over the age of 21.”

I looked up for a moment at the doctor and responded. “Most of my older brothers have been in and out of prison for stuff that my dad wanted them to do,” I explained, “and they don’t really keep contact with us unless Dad needs them for one of his operations.”

There was a long silence as I sat there and played with my fingernails a bit. Dr. Arnold was writing more things on her notepad before speaking to us again. “I know you two ladies don’t want to hear this coming from me,” she began, “but it is required that one or both of the parents should provide some official consent on the abortion before it actually occurs.”

Fiona ran a hand through her hair as she let out a long, stressed exhale. My ears started to let out steam the moment I heard that come out of her mouth.

“There is one other option, though, that I could recommend, if you two are up for the task,” Dr. Arnold added, and we both listened. “There is the option to report your situation to a judge and ask for permission for an abortion without the consent of your parents. This is also referred to as a judicial bypass. The process itself doesn’t take as long as it sounds, and everything involved in a hearing is completely confidential.”

“So my dad doesn’t have to know?” I asked, a bit worried.

“Exactly.” And that was the moment where I felt the tension in my shoulders go away. If Dad found out that I was pregnant with his child, he would have done way worse to me than the night Mickey and I came home from the Gallaghers, and I didn’t want to think about the possible torture I’d be up against.

Fiona turned towards me for some confirmation. “So? You think you’d be up for it?” she asked me, and I nodded back. Then Fiona turned back to the doctor. “How much would medical expenses cost?”

“Well, lucky for you, Mandy,” Dr. Arnold began, “the judicial bypass is free of charge. However, she will have to pay for any appoinments after today, leading up to the date of the abortion. Since you’re less than ten weeks into your pregnancy, you will be given some medication for the abortion process, but keep in mind that the medication itself, in addition to the clinic appointments, is costly.”

I gulped a little bit. “By how much?”

Dr. Arnold shrugged. “Normally, it depends on which clinic you attend. Here, it costs roughly…around three hundred.”

It hit me like a ton of bricks, and not in a good way. Where we were going to get three hundred dollars plus expenses for visits, I have no idea. Fiona and her family are already neck deep, especially when it came to paying for the light and gas bills every month and providing food for everyone to eat. This was why I didn’t want them getting involved in this mess in the first place.

“We can discuss any and all payment options, if you ladies still want to go through with this,” Dr. Arnold added.

Fiona looked at me for a brief moment and then back to the doctor, nodding slowly but still a bit unsure of herself. “Sounds like a plan.”

She was actually doing this. Fiona was actually chipping in on this. Even if she was struggling with money herself, she made the sacrifice to help me regardless if it hurts her or not. I didn’t even have to ask for it, which was especially shocking and fucked up.

It’s not like I want this baby or anything; I’m still in school, and I need to get my life together so I can get Mickey and I out of the South Side and build a better life for us. But thinking about Fiona putting this situation in her hands feels overwhelmingly incredible.

So when we left the clinic that day, I looked over to her and said “thank you” before reeling her in for a tight hug.

From this point on, I knew then and there that Fiona was my hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't kidding when I mentioned why I probably wouldn't update two or three weeks ago. I've just been fangirling my ass off about Gotham, Empire, and HTGAWM, in addition to trying to get my homework and stuff out of the way. Keep in mind, I'm in college, so I'm gonna be very busy. But I decided that, since it's Sunday, I'll try to finish this chapter today. I kinda fell off in terms of the writing itself, imo, but I want to know what you all thought.


	24. Black, Blue, and Red All Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hope didn’t feel like enough, as much as I wanted it to be. Fiona seemed to have a good, solid plan going for Mickey and Mandy, but every time things go right under this roof, something bad has to follow directly after. Gallaghers don’t usually have good moments for as long as we want to, and it would take some kind of miracle to bring them back, no matter how long it would take."

Fiona and I had made it back to the house after the visit to the hospital. It was still a bit early, so Lip and Ian were still at school. Fiona reminded me that her boss had let her go for the day to tend to me, and if she wanted to come back to her shift, she could come back whenever she wanted. It felt fair, considering that she was also sacrificing her own job for me when she didn’t have to.

“Where are we going to get the money?” I asked her as we made it back to her block. The question kind of came to mind at a random time, but I needed to know what Fiona had in store in order to take care of this shit.

Fiona went through her purse and grabbed the house keys. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

I shrugged. “I mean, you said you’d go with the plan with the medical expenses, so I thought I’d make sure.”

“I could talk with Vee and discuss some things,” Fiona explained putting one of the keys through the keyhole of the front door. “Your dad have any stray cash lyin’ around in that house?”

“Not that I know of,” I replied, “but I could check.”

Fiona shook her head as she opened the door. “I don’t think so,” she responded, and I followed her in the house. “Not sure how safe it is to go back there.” She placed her purse on the couch and turned to me. “You think your brothers could assist with some of the money? I heard they’re _working_ for your dad or something, right?”

“They would need some of it for rent and the water bill for their girlfriends’ apartments and shit like that, but I could ask around.” I paused. “Or I could scout out a job or something.”

Fiona furrowed her eyebrows at me. “You sure you’d be okay with that?”

“Ian has a job after school, doesn’t he? Doesn’t sound too hard.”

Fiona nodded briefly before another thought came up. “Okay, but what if it’s not enough to pay for the appointments and the actual procedure?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot.”

Our conversation was interrupted when we both saw Liam try to walk down the steps by himself. He was holding one of his toys in his right hand and the stair railing with his left. He looked up at the both of us and spoke, “Mickey.”

Speaking of Mickey, where the hell was my brother anyways?

“Hi, little monkey,” Fiona spoke in her high baby voice, picking the toddler up and resting his head on her shoulder. “Mickey take good care of you today?” Her hand ran through Liam’s curly hair as the little boy started to point towards the kitchen behind Fiona’s back with his toy.

I followed Liam’s gaze and immediately saw the dinner table shifted all the way to the back door. “Fiona,” I said, an attempt to grab her attention, and pointed towards the kitchen archway.

Fiona and I walked into the kitchen, taking notice of the chairs that had fallen all over the kitchen floor. My eyes shifted towards the window near the far corner of the room, spotting the couple of gun shots on the window. “Holy shit,” I spoke out of shock. How the hell did Liam survive this place?

“Oh God,” Fiona immediately spoke, placing Liam on the floor to rush down to the ground where my brother was laying. He had blood coming from his nose down over his upper lip and around the corners of his mouth. From where I stood, I could see the tears that had dried a little on Mickey’s cheeks.

“Come on, Mickey. Let’s get up.” Fiona carefully grabbed onto Mickey’s arms, helping him into seating position. As he allowed Fiona to move him, Mickey winced a little bit from the pain. “Oh, my God. What the hell happened?” Fiona asked, bringing a hand up to a bruise on Mickey’s temple.

I walked on over to Mickey’s other side, kneeling down in front of him and signing in his direction. “Mick?” I tried once. “Mick, what happened? Did Dad come here?” He stared at me sadly for about a minute before he nodded slowly, cautious of the throbbing pain on his head. “He did this to you?”

Fiona sighed before getting up off the floor and picking Liam back up again. “I’m going to put Liam in his room, and then I’ll be back down with bandages.” She cradled the infant in her arm, making sure his eyes weren’t on Mickey when she brought him out of the room, leaving Mickey and I on the kitchen floor.

“What did he say to you?” I asked him, desperate for some answers. “Does he know we called the police on him?”

Mickey didn’t respond this time. His eyes were trained on the floor in an attempt to ignore my plea for the true story. “Mickey?” I tried again, patting his leg a little bit. All of a sudden, he started to hiss from the pain, pressing his lips together and training his eyes anywhere but on my hand.

When Fiona came back downstairs with a rag and some bandages, Mickey’s eyes started to water. Fiona knelt down by his other side again, almost bringing the rag to Mickey’s nose when she saw his saddened face. “Hey Mickey, you feelin’ okay?” She spoke, and I made an attempt to sign for him. He still didn’t look at me.

As carefully as she could, Fiona lifted a hand to meet Mickey’s jaw, adjusting his head so he would look up at the both of us. It was silent as Fiona and I gazed upon Mickey’s red, wet eyes. From his attempts at ignoring us, it looked like he was trying to hide his face so we wouldn’t see his tears. Unfortunately, there was no avoiding stuff like that in the Gallagher house.

She spoke again, and I signed every word for him. “Sweetie, it’s okay to cry, alright? Your dad’s not here anymore. He’s not gonna judge you for lettin’ out your emotions. We’re all safe now, I promise.”

Mickey didn’t falter for a moment. His breaths weren’t tamed anymore as his eyes were trained on Fiona’s face, a tear threatening to fall down his face. His lips pressed against each other again as he signed to her, “I’m sorry, Fiona.” That was when a tear danced down his eye to his left cheek.

“He said that he was sorry,” I interpreted for Fiona.

When Fiona glanced from me back to Mickey, more tears came down on his face, and his bottom lip violently trembled. I noticed the couple of times where he tried to gulp down the large lump in his throat but failed.

Fiona sighed out of sadness at the sight of my brother before reaching her arms out to him. She was careful so she wouldn’t get his blood onto her shirt, but when they hugged, Mickey mostly slumped in her hold, and Fiona carefully rubbed his back, making sure she didn’t hit any sore spots.

They didn’t stay in that position for long, though. The blood was still on his face, most likely from a very forceful fist punch. Fiona took the rag and brought it up towards Mickey’s face for him to see. “I’m gonna get the blood off, okay?” she asked, gesturing around her mouth and keeping her eyes on my brother’s. Once she saw his nod, she carefully dabbed the wet rag around his mouth.

Fiona turned her head to me for a moment before turning back to Mickey. “Do you know if he has any other injuries? Something to the head?”

“He didn’t say, but I’ll check.” I craned my neck around, looking through Mickey’s dark hair for any signs of blood before I placed a hand on his scalp. I noticed Mickey frown a little from the contact, so I limited the force I put on my hand.

“Grab a zip-lock bag and fill it up with some ice cubes, will ya?” Fiona asked me, and I got up after a second and headed towards the refrigerator.

The front door had opened, and for a moment, I thought Lip and Ian had returned from school. However, there were still a few minutes left of class. Turns out, the next-door neighbor, Veronica, had stopped by to talk to Fiona. “Fi,” she called from the living room, “I don’t know, but I thought I heard some gun shots when I got back. Do y’all have some hit men or –“

Veronica stopped in her tracks the moment she found Fiona and Mickey sitting on the floor. “Oh shit, is he alright?”

“Yeah,” Fiona explained, some venom in her voice. “Deadbeat could have killed him. I think he had a gun with him, too. Fucker left us an early Christmas present in our kitchen window.”

Veronica glanced from Fiona to the window on the far wall and back. “How much is that gonna cost to replace?”

“Not sure. It’s gotta get replaced before we have another repeat of this bullshit, that’s all I know.”

I had filled up the zip-lock bag with some ice cubes for Mickey and went back to my spot on the floor. “He probably knows we called the cops on him, Fiona,” I explained, holding the bag up for Mickey. “He’s trying to hide low for a while, I guess.”

“All while giving his son black eyes and trespassing on our property?” Fiona asked incredulously. “Not on my watch.”

Fiona finished up the final touches around Mickey’s mouth and looked him the eye for a moment. “Mickey,” she spoke in her motherly tone, “does anything else hurt right now?”

I signed in his direction, and he stared at Fiona and nodded. Mickey signed something back: “He kicked me in my stomach and my legs.”

“His stomach and his legs,” I interpreted for Fiona.

“They’re not bleeding, though, right?”

I signed the question to Mickey, and he shook his head.

“Are you still able to stand up, Mickey?” I spoke for Fiona and Veronica, and signed for Mickey. He didn’t respond right away; he placed one hand in the seat of the chair behind him, making an attempt to get up. His face grimaced at the feeling he got that spread through his legs. Veronica and I held both of his arms and made sure he was stable enough to stand straight.

“I don’t think he should be putting a lot of pressure on his legs for a little while,” Veronica told us. “We could help him get into the living room until he’s okay enough to walk normally again.”

I nodded, and Veronica and I slowly guided Mickey into the living room. He stumbled a couple of times from the weakness in his legs, but he never fell to the ground on his way to the couch, so that was a good thing. We got him into seating position with a pillow to his back and another underneath his legs when we saw the front door open. Debbie and Carl returned from school, it looked like.

“Mickey?” Debbie asked, slowing down to take a better look at Mickey’s face. She noticed that his eyes got a little bit red and his skin was a little dark due to the bruises. Debbie placed her things down and went to kneel next to me. “What happened to him?”

“Mickey got his ass beat?” Carl asked, confused. “I thought he was with Liam in the house.”

“They were in the house,” Fiona called, walking from the kitchen to the living room to grip Carl by the shoulders. “Unfortunately, these walls don’t have an invisible shield to keep unwanted house guests out.”

She sighed before glancing over to Debbie and back to Carl. “There’s broken glass on the kitchen floor, and I’m not taking any chances in you getting hurt. So I want you and Debs to go upstairs and start on your work until I handle things down here.”

Carl moaned. “Do I have to?”

“Yes. Be lucky this is not an instance where I have grounded you for once,” Fiona stated, and Carl reluctantly headed upstairs with his school bag. She turned her head back to Debbie, who was inspecting a small scratch on Mickey’s left arm. “Debbie, come on. Mickey’s not feeling too well.”

“But he needs a band-aid.” Debbie replied with a sad frown.

“Don’t worry. We’ll take it from here.” And with that, Debbie slowly got up, shooting Mickey remorseful stares before joining Carl on the second story.

I looked down at Mickey, who was playing around with the hem of his shirt, before I turned to Fiona. “What are we gonna do now? What if Dad comes back tomorrow?”

“Hopefully we don’t have to worry about him anymore than we have today.” Fiona started to walk back to the kitchen, and I followed her. Veronica was already there, trying to sweep up some of the broken glass on the floor. “Vee, you think Mickey and Liam can stay over there when the kids go to school?”

Veronica whirled around in less than a second to meet Fiona’s gaze. “As much as I’m willing to offer my community service,” she explained, “our place is…well, not necessarily child-proof enough for Liam.” She paused, taking some of the glass and placing it in a white plastic bag. “Within hopefully ten months time, it will be, but that’s another story.”

Fiona’s eyebrows went up to her hair line as she processed the information Veronica gave her. “Wait, you and Kev are having kids?”

“Trying to,” Veronica continued, sweeping up any residue left on the floor. Fiona had grabbed a wet paper towel to clean up some of Mickey’s blood in front of one of the chairs. “Kev wanted to surprise you guys when we found out whether I was pregnant or not, but it’s taking longer than expected.”

“Why is that?” Fiona asked curiously, wiping the blood off the floor and making sure it didn’t leave a stain.

“Doctor says there’s a ninety-nine point nine percent chance of me _not_ getting pregnant,” Veronica responded with a scoff. “Kev and I still want to have a kid with our features. Big ass head, chocolate skin, fat cheeks – the whole nine yards.” Veronica sighed once she dumped the last of the glass in the plastic bag. “So Mom’s kinda coming to town to help us out.”

Fiona frowned. “Wait, your mom is willing to carry your kids?”

Veronica shrugged. “It was either that or adopt a kid, Fi, and Lord knows I’m not an expert on motherin’ a kid from another uterus.” Before Fiona could speak, Veronica turned in her direction and pointed a finger at her. “These kids don’t count; they’re not yours, and you do a big bang of a job raising ‘em yourself.”

I couldn’t help but agree. When I found out that the Gallaghers’ real mother had abandoned them and that their father was just as worse off, a part of me wondered how Fiona managed to keep everything afloat. Paying for the water and gas bills, feeding everyone, getting everyone to school, tending to Liam – all of this, and she still has time for other people like me, Mickey, and Veronica. Fiona never even had kids of her own, and already, she was a genius at what she does.

Fiona had cleaned up the last of the blood and was now drying the spot on the floor. I turned towards the living room where Mickey was. He was still awake, but he didn’t look much better. Sure, he’s cleaned up and in a comfortable position, but he was dealing with a lot of shit inside.

Truth is, I am, too. Not just this rape baby in my fucking uterus, but with Dad, too. He’s the reason we’re here anyways. In a way, we’ve lost both of our parents – Mama because of her suicide, and Dad because he doesn’t seem to have a decent bone in his body, especially when it came to us. As far as I’m concerned, we don’t have parents anymore. Well, we did until everything was ruined anyway.

But now we’re here in the comfort of someone else’s home, and the cuts in our skin are slowly starting to mend back together.

* * *

The school day felt longer than expected. It made Mondays even more tiring and stressful on me. I’m just thankful that it’s over for now.

When Lip and I came back home, we started to drop our bags on the floor by the stairs when we noticed Mickey sitting there on the couch. He didn’t notice our presence for a moment, and from the looks of it, he seemed upset.

“Mickey?” I asked aloud, walking around the couch to get a better look at him. He slowly glanced up at me, showing off the black eye that was clear on his skin. At that moment, I began to panic a little as I found more injuries on him, all of them looking very new.

Mickey knew I was gazing at the bruises on his face and exposed arms, and he made no attempt to explain himself; he just shot a sad expression my way.

I didn’t have the notebook with me at the moment, so I tried signing to him: “Your dad do this?” I pointed to the bruises and scars, and Mickey just nodded back.

“If you touch him, don’t apply too much pressure,” Fiona stated as she walked in the room. She angrily mumbled afterwards, “he did a real number on him.”

Lip frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand. He was in the house the whole time, wasn’t he?”

“That didn’t stop his dad from breakin’ in.” Fiona replied, her hands on her hips as she glanced at all three of us in the room. “Shot a couple of bullets through the window in the kitchen.”

Lip’s eyes bugged out in shock. “Wait, what? That asshole was in our house again?”

“I don’t think he could have fit through the window, so he might have gotten some help,” Fiona explained. “Long story short, Mickey’s a little stiff right now, and our window’s fucked up. Lucky for us, Liam’s okay, but I’m thinking he and Mickey should stay over at Sheila’s place when we’re all out of the house. Just for a couple of days to see what’s going to happen next.”

“And what happens after that?” I asked her.

Fiona shrugged in defeat. “At this point, I’m not sure. I just hope the cops have their eyes on him. Until then, hope for the best.”

Hope didn’t feel like enough, as much as I wanted it to be. Fiona seemed to have a good, solid plan going for Mickey and Mandy, but every time things go right under this roof, something bad has to follow directly after. Gallaghers don’t usually have good moments for as long as we want to, and it would take some kind of miracle to bring them back, no matter how long it would take.

But at the same time, we had Mickey and Mandy. They’re as good as they could possibly get. They’re from a bad household, sure, but they’re kind-hearted people if you see past the scars and the blood. For the past few weeks they’ve been here, I’ve seen them shed so many layers before me, and I can almost see their cores with the naked eye.

“Make sure the ice pack is on his wounds,” Fiona told me before turning around towards the kitchen. “I’m going to make him something to eat.”

When Fiona was gone, and Lip had made his way upstairs with the younger Gallaghers, Mickey and I were alone in the living room – well, not really since Fiona, Mandy, and Vee were in the kitchen.

I noticed the ice pack resting on Mickey’s lap. I started to take it, but Mickey grabbed it before I did and guarded it at his side. My sign language still needed some work, but I tried gesturing it toward my own upper leg, trying to ask him if it was hurting in that specific area. He looked back at me before signing a few words from the alphabet. _Cold_. The ice was too cold on his bare arms to place it anywhere on him just yet.

I got a little closer to Mickey and saw that his nose appeared to be a little red. There was also a red hand mark on the side of his face, and his face in general looked as if it was trying to soak up some drying tears. I didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything that needed to be said. The release of his own tears loosened the weight he had been bearing on his shoulders since the incident happened. Now was the time that he needed space.

After a second, I started to get up and head to the stairs, but Mickey had grabbed my hand and stopped me. When I looked down at him, he had somewhat of a pleading look in his eyes. He started signing letters of the alphabet again. _Stay_. He wanted me to stay in the room with him, and that was a request that I couldn’t pass up.

I sat down on the floor in front of the couch and turned the TV on, searching for the subtitles feature on the remote so Mickey could watch too. Some random movie started playing, but I wasn’t focused on it too much.

Mickey had reached his hand over to the top of my head, playing with a few strands of red hair. I bit down a smile and allowed him to play with my hair for a bit. I guess this was his sort of way of finding something else to put his mind on that didn’t involve his father or any injuries related to him. That helps me, too, you know. Just taking my brain on a special trip to my safe haven away from reality.

I turned around to meet his eye, his hand still in my hair. He removed his hand from the top of my head and bit down at his bottom lip nervously, and it made my smile grow wider. He looked a little shy, but at the same time, he looked like he was relaxing.

It was a very risky move, but I wanted to make sure he was at much ease as possible. I sat on my knees so I was close to Mickey’s height from where I was on the floor and began to lean closer to him when I heard Mandy walk into the living room. “What are you assfaces watching?” she asked, taking a seat on the couch and making sure she didn’t hit Mickey in the leg.

My eyes shot from Mandy to the TV screen and back. “Uh, I’m not sure. I just got to this channel.” Well, part of it wasn’t a lie.

Mandy didn’t continue the conversation any further; she just watched the movie in front of her, but only for a few seconds, for her attention went to her backpack on the floor by the other side of the couch.

Maybe I should start on some of my work, too.

I didn’t abandon Mickey entirely. I shot him a few glances around my shoulder as Mandy and I began to carry on a conversation. “Did they say they were going to get rid of the baby?” I asked her.

“It’s gonna take a while before that happens.” Mandy sighed from defeat.

“How much longer?” I asked curiously, pulling out my History book.

“Until we have enough money to pay for the bills for the hospital visits.” Mandy had a hint of sadness in her voice. In the back of my mind, I was hoping and praying that she would have enough to abort the baby before it was too late.

It was silent in the room for a couple of moments. Mickey was looking at her with some kind of sadness in his eyes as well. He had a lot on his plate to start worrying about Mandy again. For reassurance, I grabbed Mickey’s left hand and snuck a kiss on the back of it before squeezing it. Mickey met eyes with me, and I mouthed, “It’s all going to be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't realized at this point in the story, a lot of the canon things about Shameless are kinda jumbled around, so the timeline is uncertain. But everything that has happened on the show (e.g. Kev and Vee wanting kids, Fiona taking custody of the kids, Ian running away to the army, Fiona working at Patsy's Pies, etc.) happens before they met Mickey and Mandy. When I wrote this story, I wasn't 100% sure what season this would be based on.
> 
> Also, let's just hope and pray this website doesn't get shut down due to not enough donations because honestly... (I would donate myself, but I'm a broke college student, so...).
> 
> P.S., Shout-out to Cameron Monaghan for his performance on Gotham. Whether Jerome was the Joker or not, Cameron did a hell of a great job bringing his character to life (I am a proud mama).


	25. Please Don't Leave Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If school was just an option, then I would stay at home and hold Mickey as close to me as possible, keeping all of the demons of the world at least fifty feet away. I would run a hand through his hair, assuring him that I was here by his side the entire time. I would kiss him on the cheek, on the temple, in his hair, on his lips – anywhere so he would know how much he was loved."

A repairman came to the house about an hour or two after Lip and I got home to take a look at the window in the kitchen. The cost to replace the window would be about five hundred dollars including installment. Adding onto the cost to get Mandy to the clinic to have her abortion and other expenses within our family and in the house, it was a lot for Fiona to cover.

Luckily, she had us to help her earn as much as we could within the time we had.

I had asked Kash if I could work more hours at the Kash and Grab after letting him know of our situation, and Debbie rose the price per hour to babysit some of the neighborhood kids by about twenty percent – she says it’s only temporary, but no one’s really sure what _temporary_ meant, at this point. Lip also agreed to go back to charging people for tutoring sessions until any and all expenses were paid for. As of Mandy and Carl, they were still looking for something to do, and Fiona had a shit ton on her plate to begin with.

Truth is, taking care of Terry Milkovich’s fuck ups were harder than I thought. Mickey and Mandy were always welcome to stay with us whenever they wanted, but I wasn’t expecting it to put this much stress on everyone, especially knowing that their father was the cause of it.

But if that meant that both Mickey and Mandy were safe, then it was damn well worth it.

After getting some of my homework done with Mandy at the house, I had gone to the Kash and Grab to start my shift. I wasn’t going to work for too long today since it was getting a little late, but I wanted to make the best out of today. Fiona and Mandy needed the money for the abortion and the broken money, and whatever I earned for the day could be split between the two.

I was sitting behind the register, taking care of a young woman’s grocery transactions, when Linda came from the back of the store and started pulling Kash by the collar and dragging him towards the refrigerators. She pulled out her clipboard and shoved it up against Kash’s chest. “Will you take a look at this?” she asked, some venom in her voice.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Kash nervously flipping through the pages, not uttering a single word in his wife’s direction.

“Do you wanna explain to me why we’re short this month _again_?” Linda asked furiously, placing her hands on her hips. Kash began to stutter a little, but Linda cut her off. “Is that little gremlin coming in here and stealing more cigarettes and liquor again? Are you literally pussying out on me for the umpteenth fucking time?”

I knew Linda was referring to Mickey, since he came to the store the last time I remember and basically robbed Kash while we were at it in the storage unit. But since then, Mickey hasn’t been going back there to steal anything.

Or has he? Had he been coming back here since the period of the silent treatment?

Kash didn’t answer her. His eyes just fell down to the marble tiles on the ground. Linda, clearly fed up and irritated, turned away from him and walked over towards the cashier. She slammed the clipboard down on the counter, scaring the customer next to her and making her rush out the door with her purchases.

“You see what I have to put up with twenty four fucking hours a day?” she asked me, and I nodded nervously. “That is why I need you here, Ian. You’re literally the only thing keeping me sane at this point, because if this shit continues, then I’m literally forced to go back to handmaking scarves and shalls and selling them to the women at my church. You wanna know why? Do you?”

I stuttered, unaware that she actually wanted an answer to that question. “Um…I, uh –“

“Because my own husband is making it clear that I’m the only one who’s capable of managing the money that’s coming in our house,” Linda interrupted. “It’s like I’m raising three fucking kids all by myself, and I can feel the frown marks in my forehead and the bags in my eyes reforming themselves!”

I gulped for a moment, noticing the exchange between Linda and Kash. She sighed for a long minute, taking the clipboard with her to the back of the store. Before she made it there, she stopped in front of Kash again and glared at him. “Our kids are going to start living on ramen and goddamn Tropicana for the next couple of weeks, if this happens again. Grow some balls for once in your life.” And with that, she was gone.

There was a long silence in the room. Kash glanced over at me with some disappointment in his features. To be honest, I was disappointed as well. It was his store, after all, yet he was letting his customers get away with doing stuff like stealing cigarettes and groceries.

“Just say it,” I told him, folding my arms. He frowned at me in confusion, and I clarified for him. “Has he been coming back here to steal things from the store?”

“Who?"

“You know who.” He stared at me for a moment. “Mickey Milkovich? The same guy that came here when we were…you know, in the back of the store?”

Kash sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He came about three or four times a couple of weeks ago,” he confessed. “And after that, an older man started coming here. I think he was his father.”

“And you just allowed them to steal from you?” I barked.

“I tried stopping his father once,” Kash explained, “but it didn’t turn out so well.”

I sighed, burying my face in my hands. I get that Terry Milkovich is a violent, aggressive man and all, but Kash is a grown man managing his own store. He shouldn’t have to feel this inferior to someone like Terry. Hell, if this was Fiona’s store and not Kash’s, the police would have been here weeks before the stealing incident even started, as much as I like Mickey and all and that we’re currently on good terms.

“I get why everyone is upset at me,” Kash explained. His voice got a little closer, for he was walked towards me. “But I’m just not that kind of person, Ian. I’m not a violent man. I don’t see myself hurting other people.”

“You don’t have to hurt anyone to defend yourself, Kash.” I dropped my hands and looked up at him from where I was sitting. I let my brain process a few ideas before speaking again. “Have you ever thought about getting a gun?” I asked him.

He thought for a few brief moments. “No.”

“Next time Mr. Milkovich comes to the store, just threaten him with the gun until the police arrives. He won’t know what hit him,” I suggested.

Kash nodded slowly and looked back at me. “I’ll try. Thanks, Ian.” I nodded before turning my head towards the new customer that walked through the store. A young man, relatively in his early twenties, had disappeared towards the aisle with the snacks and such to look at some Cheez-Its and some cereal.

Aware that he could hear the next topic of the conversation, Kash leaned closer to me and started whispering. “Hey, um, listen,” he told me, and he chuckled suggestively and nervously at the same time, “Linda has a parent-teacher conference with the kids at their school this Thursday, and they’ll be gone for most of the evening. Now that you’re working more hours here, maybe we could, um…”

I knew what he was referring to.

I couldn’t do this anymore. I hate letting people down, but I had a new set of priorities on my hands. Fiona and Mandy needed the money, and Mandy and Mickey both needed me to be there for them. Those two have been hurt more times than Carl has when he attempted doing tricks with his bicycle.

Not just that, but Mickey and I have established that we’re in a relationship now – a secret relationship, I might add.

I feel like if I told Kash who I was dating, then he would get upset and furious at the same time. Not just Kash, but Mickey as well. He’s not open with the idea of so many people knowing his sexuality just yet, and I don’t want to pressure him too much.

And to be perfectly honest, at this point, this is my choice to upset one or the other. I couldn’t upset Mickey. He’s been let down too many times in his life, especially by people one would expect to show the most care for him. Besides, I really like Mickey. He’s made me feel things that I haven’t felt with Kash before. He’s something special, if you ask me.

I bit my bottom lip and eyed Kash sincerely, fumbling with my fingers a bit over the counter. “I can’t do this anymore, Kash.”

Kash was taken by surprise for a moment. “What do you mean?”

I took a deep breath, arranging the words in my head as carefully as possible. “I sort of have a boyfriend.” To my surprise, Kash looked a little calmer than I expected him to be. It made it a little confusing as to what he was thinking about right now. “And what if Linda found out what we were up to? She would fire me and then divorce you. You don’t want that to happen, right?”

Kash was silent for three seconds before he spoke. “It’s because you lost interest in me, isn’t it?”

I frowned. “What? No, I –“

“I get it, Ian. You don’t have to lie. Just tell the truth.”

“I am telling the truth.”

“How long has it been going on then? The boyfriend thing, I mean?”

I shrugged, glancing over at the container of tiny Jolly Ranchers marked with the price of sixty five cents per piece. “About a while now, actually.” In reality, Mickey and I have been in a relationship only recently, but to be fair, it felt like it was longer than that. “And…well, I feel good when I’m with him.”

Kash scratched the back of his head. “I thought that you had the same idea with me.”

“I did for a while,” I admitted, “and then the store robberies started up, and then Linda came in here yelling her vocal chords off about unpaid products that you allowed people to take from you. She’s going to find out that something is up with us if we don’t stop it earlier, Kash, and you know it.”

“Not if we’re careful.”

The guy that walked in the store minutes before came over to us, placing his stuff on the counter in front of me. As I rang up his selected items, he looked between me and Kash, sensing some kind of tension between us. He wasn’t kidding, after all. “Nine twenty four,” I told him, and he placed a ten dollar bill on the counter. After I gave him the change, he walked on out the store with his purchases in plastic bags, leaving us to our previous conversation.

“And besides, you’ve let Linda down with the whole store thing already,” I went on.

“What does that mean?” he asked me.

“I mean, you should let her know who you really are,” I clarified. “I mean, I could suffer the consequences, too, but at least you would be honest to her.”

“That’s going to hurt our marriage, Ian. I love my kids. And like you said, it’s jeopardizing you as well. Your family needs the money just as much as mine.”

I shrugged. “They say money doesn’t buy you happiness, you know?”

Kash didn’t reply. He looked down again, running his hand over his mouth and staring at something on the counter. I looked away from him for a moment, trying to clear my head of the migraine that was taking over my brain. I wanted to stand by my ground and let Kash know the truth, but he was right. I can’t risk anything; everything going on at home is on the line right now.

“One of these days, Ian,” Kash spoke again, “she’ll know everything. Don’t worry; I’ll be the one to lay out the whole story when that time comes. Right now, though, I’m trying to help you. She can’t know right now. I don’t want her to fire you. You need this.”

I was quiet for a couple more moments before I folded my arms again and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

* * *

I came home around eight thirty. Everyone in the house has eaten dinner already, and Liam had already been tucked in for bed. Mickey was feeling a little bit better; he even tried walking a little bit, and some of the bruises on him didn’t hurt as much anymore. He still limped a bit, but nothing was broken or anything, so that was a sign.

“Jesus,” Mandy spoke when she saw me walk through the door. “You look like shit.” She wasn’t kidding. My entire body was dragging at this point.

“I feel like shit,” I told her, and she came over to me to give me a hug. I was tired as fuck, so my hug back to her felt kind of half-assed.

“Don’t stress yourself out because of me, okay?” she reminded me, turning my head so I would look dead in her eyes. “I’m scouting out some gigs around the neighborhood, looking for something that has decent pay so you guys won’t put yourselves under so much stress.”

“Mandy,” I responded tiredly, “a thousand dollars has to be spent on a broken window and an unborn baby – all because of your shitty dad. Trust me, the stress will be worth it a few weeks from now.”

Mandy bit her bottom lip. “I just feel a little guilty.”

“Don’t. We got this.”

She was silent for a couple of moments before she nodded and hugged me again. Her voice was a little muffled, but I heard her say, “thanks, Ian. For all of this. It’s just…”

She didn’t continue. Her head rested against my shoulder for a couple of moments as I wrapped my arms around her. “No problem, Mands.”

We hugged for a few more minutes until she released me from her hold. A small, nervous chuckle escaped her mouth. “Alright, enough with the mushy shit. I’m getting ready for bed.”

I laughed as I watched her head up the stairs. “This early?”

“You’d be surprised,” she replied before walking up the stairs and disappearing from view.

When I turned back around, I noticed Mickey sitting on the couch, this time with his feet on the ground. He had grabbed one of the beer cans from the refrigerator and drank it as he flipped through the channels for anything interesting on TV.

I started to go upstairs and grab the notebook Mickey and I would always write in when I remembered the American Sign Language book Mandy let me borrow. It probably took her a while to get Mickey to learn it himself, and now he looked like a pro at it in comparison to everyone else. I liked sharing our conversations in the notebook and all, but if I wanted this thing between Mickey and I to work, I had to expand my knowledge.

That being said, I grabbed the notebook, a pen, and the American Sign Language book and came back downstairs, sitting beside Mickey and writing on a fresh page of notebook paper. “Time for another lesson,” I wrote, and Mickey read the message back.

He smirked and wrote back to me. “About fucking time, Gallagher.” It’s incredible how Mickey made me blush after one sentence.

I gave him the book, but Mickey shoved it to the side. When I gave him a confused look, he started to point his index finger to his lips and bend it twice. He wrote that he was signing _red_. I followed his lead and signed it as well. Then he went on to squeezing his fingers into a fist twice by his mouth, and I did the same. He told me that was _orange_. Before I knew it, I was signing every color in the rainbow.

After a few moments, Mickey started up a game where he would write down an everyday object, and I would have to sign the color. When our game started, and he wrote down the word _cardboard_ on the paper, I signed the letter B and dropped my hand down the length of my face. Brown.

He then wrote _clouds_ down on the paper, and I placed my hand on my chest before extending it two inches away and pressing my hand’s finger pads up against each other. White.

After that, words like _television_ , _grass_ , _roses_ , and _flamingos_ followed, and this time around, it got a little easier to remember what all he taught me in less than thirty minutes. I had fun playing this game, and I especially had fun letting Mickey teach me what to sign.

He ended the game after a while and went on to a different set of words. He cradled a pretend baby in his arms. Turns out, that was the sign for _baby_ , which was incredibly easy for me. Then he held his hand to his mouth and tapped his bottom lip with his thumb as he jerked it back and forth a couple of times. This was the sign for _mother_.

His left hand fell to his side, held out in front of him and balled up in a fist. His other hand was balled up in a fist but at his forehead. He dropped his right hand down to his left, and the index fingers on both of his hands stuck out once his right hand’s wrist hit that of his left hand’s. That was the sign for _brother_. The sign he did for _sister_ was a little different; instead of keeping his hands in fists, and his right hand up at his forehead, his right hand was near his eye, the index finger pointing up to it before his right hand hit his left.

After that, he made the letter F with both of his hands. The index fingers and thumbs touched each other before he flipped his hands around, both of his pinkie fingers touching. He told me that was the sign for _family_.

We stopped for a moment, Mickey noticing that something was up. I took the notebook and started to write, “you missed the one for dad…” A part of me wanted to scratch that out, but Mickey peeked over to watch me write and saw it already. My eyes fell upon his, the anger still evident in the way he was behaving. I skipped a couple of lines and wrote, “I’m sorry.”

Mickey didn’t reply. He just looked down at the American Sign Language book in between us. I guess he needed a moment.

I started to get up, but Mickey grabbed onto my forearm and gently tugged me back down to seating position. His blue eyes fell upon mine again. When he knew that I was paying attention to him again, he took the notebook and wrote under my previous statement. “Ian, I’m scared.” He didn’t even have to explain himself. “He’s coming after me.”

I stared at him for a while until I gathered enough composure to write back to him. “We’re all here for you, Mickey. You won’t have to be scared of your dad for too much longer.”

Mickey didn’t seem to believe it. He wants to – I know somewhere in his heart, he wants to believe it – but with all that has happened within the past few hours, he doesn’t know if he can or not.

He wrote something on the paper and showed it to me. “What’s gonna happen when you and Mandy go to school tomorrow, huh? I got off easy today, but one day, it’s gonna be worse than today, and we won’t know what he’ll be up to then.” He grabbed the notebook again and wrote some more. “I don’t wanna be left alone again, Ian. I need you guys to be here.”

I gave him a long, sad look before I wrote back. “I can’t take too many risks here, Mickey. You know Mandy and I need to go, okay? And Fiona told us that you and Liam could stay with our other neighbor until we know if the coast is clear or not. We’re trying as best as we can.”

Mickey didn’t write again. His eyes fell down to the couch cushion, not once looking up at me after my response to him. It made me feel so bad. If school was just an option, then I would stay at home and hold Mickey as close to me as possible, keeping all of the demons of the world at least fifty feet away. I would run a hand through his hair, assuring him that I was here by his side the entire time. I would kiss him on the cheek, on the temple, in his hair, on his lips – anywhere so he would know how much he was loved.

All he wanted was to be loved, after all. Once his mom was gone, a major part of his life was snatched away. Now he had me, and all he was thinking about was what would happen if things went south from here.

I didn’t blame him for it, either.

I placed the books on the coffee table before crawling over to him. Everyone else was upstairs either doing homework, up to leisure activity, getting ready for bed, or were already in bed. Mickey and I were the only ones down here, so I guess it couldn’t hurt.

My lips met Mickey’s at an instant. The kiss was soft. Mickey’s lips were especially soft. He felt so good underneath my touch. He was right; I needed him near me as much as he needed me to be here. We both needed each other as much as possible.

I broke the kiss for a moment, sitting on the other side of the couch again and pretending to look through the notebook as Carl came downstairs in need of a glass of water and some fruit snacks. Once he was done in the kitchen, he disappeared back up to the second floor.

I added another sentence to the sheet of paper in the notebook. “Wait here for me. I have an idea.”

* * *

About forty minutes later, I brought Mickey and our notebook outside to the abandoned van that was stuck on our lawn. No one had used it since it broke down, but Lip and I would usually come out here and smoke and talk about random stuff to pass the time.

I wanted to make this a spot for me and Mickey. I wanted to show him how much I cared about him as much as I could, but I understood that Mickey wasn’t ready to come out of the closet, either. After the couple of times we could have gotten caught kissing and stuff in the bathroom upstairs, I figured that enough was enough.

I opened the side door of the van and allowed Mickey to crawl inside with me. Once we were both in, I shut the door and turned on a flashlight before writing in the notebook once again. “I made ourselves a little hiding spot.”

He chuckled and wrote a response. “You’re fucking weird.”

“I’m only looking out for my boyfriend, aren’t I?”

That was it. That was when Mickey’s blush became more prominent than ever. It was contagious, actually, seeing him look all giddy like that.

We grinned into our next kiss. Mickey’s arms found their way around me, and mine found their way around Mickey. All we did for the rest of the night was kiss passionately as possible, running our fingers over every inch of us we could reach. It could have led to sex right then and there, but not everyone was asleep, and they could very well suspect what was going on.

But we had plenty of time before it reached that milestone anyway. All I wanted now was to give Mickey all the love that he deserved.


	26. Hold My Hand and My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I didn’t even have to hear what Ian had to say to understand where he’s coming from and how strong the tone of his words were. I could feel them, even when Ian was putting his hands on different parts of my body. They were so fucking strong that not even my damn arms could push them away."

Coming home from school normally is the best part of my day, primarily because I can relax from all of the work that my teachers assign every day. This time around, however, it’s different. Coming home from school is a new ball game for me, one that makes me jumpier on the inside. It’s a ball game that I’m willing to play over and over again if I made the choice to.

Ever since we declared the van to be our secret spot, Mickey and I have met there almost every day for the next two weeks. The world was completely shut out every second we had privacy to ourselves, oblivious to the photos we took on our phones and the booze we shared. Our conversations were still private from the real world, like they have always been, so nothing has changed there, really. But if we’re being honest, this time around, the intimacy has made our conversations more honest and interesting to share.

We still kissed each other, too. Sometimes when we didn’t have anything to talk about, we would just lay back and let our lips linger against each other for however long we wanted to. Those were the best kisses we shared since our first one.

Other times, when Mickey and I would drink and share goofy stories and such, we would pepper kisses on each other’s faces. I would do it more often than Mickey would – he must think that I’m the most shit-faced person in the world – and every time I did, Mickey would have the biggest smile spread across his face. Sometimes, he would even giggle, and that would tempt me to tickle him to make him laugh a little louder.

Mickey had the best laugh I have ever heard, and the best smile I’ve ever seen on anyone’s face. I get a kick out of him feeling the happiness and the love flow throughout his body.

It was a Friday night, and I came back home from a four-hour shift at the Kash and Grab. The relationship Mickey and I shared gave me so much energy. Even when my shift started, all I thought about was Mickey. I knew he was at home somewhere waiting for me to end my shift so we could hang out and such. I could already see the muscles in his cheeks forming the smile Mickey tried so hard to bite back.

At one point, an elderly woman came in the store to buy some milk and some Nilla Wafers, and my phone lit up, showing a notification from Mickey. Somewhere between today and the week before, I had changed Mickey’s contact name to _Mick_ , adding a few emojis following it. So when I saw that appear on my screen, I knew Mickey was missing me.

When I opened up the iMessage app on my phone, I read the message Mickey texted me. _I’m fuckin’ bored, man. When’s your shift over, Gallagher?_

I grinned and texted back. _Mick, I just got here._

Mickey’s message came ten seconds later. _Well then fucking just get back._

I started laughing a little from the text, and I immediately felt my stomach hurting after a little while. The elderly lady was coming towards the counter to pay for her groceries, so I had to compose myself from Mickey’s over-the-phone humor. It was clear that the customer in front of me was judging me, but she knew fuck all what I was smiling my ass off about.

And truth be told, Mickey was right. Yeah, I just got here and everything, but I wanted to be at home with him. Saying that thought aloud would probably be another foreign feeling that I would have felt since my friendship with Mickey has evolved.

That’s the hardest thing about an affair, keeping your mouth shut about everything that’s going on. There were so many things about Mickey and my relationship with him that I wanted to tell _someone_ out there. Probably not Mandy since Mickey might not take it that well, let alone the fact that it’s Mandy’s older brother and that she would flip her shit if she found out just now.

But I’m typically an open book. I want people to know more about me just as much as I want to know more about other people. It wasn’t fair that I couldn’t do just that in this case, but it’s better than Terry showing back up at the Gallagher house with a gun to Mickey’s temple after hearing about his son sneaking kisses with one of _the neighborhood gays_.

Kev and Vee were still on the look-out for Terry, from what I heard as soon as I got back from work. Frank was also home, and Fiona was getting a couple of words through his thick skull about hanging out with the guy. “He’s dangerous, Frank,” Fiona argued. “He’s not hesitant about killing his own kids. I’m asking you to do the one thing in your life you seem capable of doing.”

Frank was on his third bottle of beer and didn’t seem to pay Fiona any attention as he eyed something on the far end of the room. Just goes to show you that you can’t trust a drunk to do anything right. “Jesus Christ, you all are overreacting.”

Fiona’s eyebrows leaped up on her forehead. “Oh, _we’re_ overreacting?” she challenged. “You’re looking at the same people who saved your sorry ass from getting your head chopped off by a couple of hit men.”

Lip walked out of the kitchen and headed to the stairs, overhearing the conversation between the two. “Remind me again why we couldn’t just give Frank to them and film it for the nature show?”

I smirked, following Lip towards the stairs. “When the predator becomes the prey…”

“Natural selection was definitely not in Frank’s favor,” Lip teased, and I giggled along.

The two of us were about to head on to our room when I felt someone grab onto my arm. I turned around and noticed Mickey timidly stand there at the bottom of the steps, eyes on me before they went over to Frank and back to me once more. He frowned, gesturing back to Frank and Fiona as he signed. I assume he wanted to know what they were talking about – or, rather, _arguing_ about.

“You’d think that you would know at least fifteen sentences at this point,” Lip joked, noticing the exchange between Mickey and me.

I glared up at my brother before tossing a shoe at his back. Lucky for him, the force of my shoe didn’t really impact him much. What a fucking idiot.

As I slipped my shoe back on, I glanced back up at Mickey, who was beckoning me into the kitchen and towards the back door. When we noticed that the coast was clear – Fiona and Frank still went back and forth, Carl and Debbie were watching television, and Liam was playing with his toys – Mickey grabbed my hand and got a firm grip on it. It was actually adorable seeing him like this. He’s been cooped in his own home for years, and to converse with someone who wasn’t in his blood family must have felt like the best feeling in the world.

* * *

The two of us made it out to the van. I had noticed that Mickey brought out some more beer cans that Frank used to hide in the back of the fridge – he wasn’t as clever as we all thought – along with a couple of leftover snacks from the cupboards. Off on the side somewhere, I spotted my school books and our black notebook on top. All of them were opened on a random page, some that I’ve already been in and others that I haven’t gotten to yet. Mickey was probably entertaining himself with some of my class readings and such, though I find nothing interesting about Chemistry and History.

I made a move for the notebook and wrote a message to Mickey. Before I could finish, he grabbed onto both of my wrists and shook his head. I frowned. He brought his hands back up and shook his head as he signed the word _write_. He doesn’t want me writing in the book anymore – at least for a while – which conflicted a little with our speaking methods but, at the same time, helped me learn more words.

At that point, though, I was trying to find the best way to form my question to him. I don’t know everything just yet, and it was going to take some work before I even get to that level of mastery.

So I tried remembering some stuff I was taught previously. I pointed to Mickey first before signing the word _look_. A point towards my own chest. Then the sign for the word _book_. As I made an attempt to sign each word, I watched Mickey nod his head with every correct gesture.

Once I finished, his eyebrows rose as-a-matter-of-factly, followed by another sincere head nod. To me, that was a big accomplishment. At first, I thought I would suck at the whole signing thing. Hell, I wasn’t even expecting Mickey to teach me in the first place, let alone get along with him enough to do so. But now we’re here, and I can sense somewhere in him the excitement at my progress.

He placed a hand on my upper arm and started signing his next sentence slowly. He pointed to himself before holding his left hand out, palm facing himself, and dragging the index finger on the right hand directly down. I didn’t remember what that sign was, but Mickey kept going. He took the index finger of his left hand and kept it up as he made one circle going clockwise. Then he pointed to me and brought his right hand up at his side, bending all of his fingers at once. Finally, he balled up both fists, keeping his left one lower than his right as he made two circular motions with his right fist.

I recalled every sign he made and tried going back to the signs he previously taught me. So far, all I could make out were the _I_ s and _you_ s. I think at some point, he signed the past tense of read, but I wasn’t sure.

Mickey grabbed my hand, and I glanced back into his eyes. His finger tapped against his temple before making all of the signs again. I looked carefully, memorizing every finger bend and every motion repeated. I pondered over it for a bit before I started mouthing the words to him. “I…was reading…” I began, and Mickey nodded with every word. “…when you…were…”

And it started making sense again.

“I was reading when you were working?” It came out as a question in the case that he would say that I messed a sign up. Lucky for me, the bright smile on Mickey’s face made it clear that I passed my quiz for the day.

Mickey grabbed the notebook and pen and started writing under my scribbles. “You’re catchin’ up pretty well, Gallagher.” I wish I could hear what that sound like on Mickey’s lips instead of on paper. He probably sounded as laid back and full of swagger as I imagined he did.

He started to crawl towards me, and we both grinned wildly before his lips connected with mine. It was soft but only for a couple of seconds. Mickey seemed to really miss me, for the progression in our kiss seemed greater than one would expect it to be. Either that, or he was feeling more grateful by the second that someone was willing to talk to him in more ways than one.

I let go of his lips, and a whine escaped from his mouth as he watched me grab one of the beer bottles and a beer bottle opener. After taking a sip out of the bottle, I placed the open end to Mickey’s lips, feeding him a few drops of the alcohol. He grabbed the bottle from me and released his lips from the open end once some of the beer dripped down his face. I giggled a bit at the response, and then he looked at me with that smile on his face as he made a comfortable seat right next to me.

Mickey’s face started showing concern as he noticed the tired look on my face, and he started writing something else on the sheet of notebook paper. “It’s too much, is it?”

I frowned and wrote my response. “What do you mean?”

“We’re adding at least three or four extra hours in your work day, is what I mean.”

“Mick, come on. We want to do it.”

“You should look at yourself in the mirror for at least three minutes, if you’re not seeing it now,” Mickey replied. “You look like you climbed fuckin’ Everest just to fall asleep on top of it.”

“That doesn’t mean that I didn’t wanna help.”

Concern spread across my features as Mickey lowered his head in an attempt to hide his face. He never got the chance to live a normal life, not even when his mother was alive and trying her best to protect him and Mandy from that beast of a father. And after all these years of his mother not physically being a part of their family, and all these years of the abuse that his father has committed, no one bothered to help him and his sister in their time of need.

No wonder he and Mandy rejected the help from us so often. They were literally brainwashed into thinking that they were a happy, all-American family when everything was the opposite.

I crawled in front of him and sat on my legs, lifting his chin up so I could grab his attention. We stared into each other’s eyes for a moment before I grabbed the notebook and started writing for him again. “You don’t have to feel like you’re a burden in our house, Mickey. Like Fiona said, you’re always welcome here. Everyone here likes you and Mandy’s company. We’re not doing any of this because we’re being forced to or anything like that. Protecting you guys is the one thing we want to do, and we’ll do anything to get your dad the consequences he deserves.”

Mickey bit his lip as he read each word. I could tell that his heart was rapidly beating underneath his shirt, and I wanted to do everything I could to calm him down. So I took the notebook back and added to my message. “We care about you, Mick. Fiona, Mandy, Debbie, Kev, Vee…” I paused. “I love you.”

I looked down at my words, wondering if I should take some of them back or not. Just because Mickey and I were in a relationship didn’t mean that we actually discussed all of this stuff between us. Mickey has no idea what I’m feeling and vice versa, and that makes me worried a little bit about how he would even react.

When he noticed that I had stopped writing, Mickey reached his hand forward and dragged the top of the notebook down so he could read my handwriting. I started to pull the notebook away from him, but Mickey took it back over to his side, getting a better angle of all of the words I wrote near the bottom of the page. His face was emotionless when he got to the last three words, and that’s when I knew I fucked things up already.

Mickey gulped before he started to crawl on over to the door of the van, hopping out and heading back inside the house. My own beating heart made the rising panic so evident.  I tried followed him, but his speed walking was definitely faster than mine.

When I made it inside the house, Mickey had already ran up to the second floor. Fiona was helping Mandy look through some job offers in the newspaper when they both looked up at me, curious as to what just happened. If it were possible to even ask either one of them how to handle this situation, I would. But the _rushing back into the house_ thing was all too sudden, so they would automatically assume that it involved me and Mickey.

Still, I needed some help. I wanted help figuring Mickey out, but I wasn’t sure how to get it.

* * *

Gallagher scared the shit out of me just then.

I don’t do the whole love thing. Hell, I didn’t even think it was possible for me since I’ve never been in a relationship before him – a gay one, for that matter. And even if I didn’t, love in general never worked out for someone like me. Milkoviches weren’t meant to show that much appreciation for someone who wasn’t a part of our family. Hell, we barely showed that much appreciation to each other, but who’s paying any kind of attention?

The scary thing is that Ian looked like he was almost sure of himself when he said those three words. We haven’t even been together for that long, and I have no idea on how I feel about him. Sure, I think he’s a jackass yet more tolerable than literally all of my brothers combined; however, I never really understood what love was supposed to feel like. What does that shit even mean?

During dinner that night, I tried figuring it out. Until then, I had to distance myself from Ian a bit because I didn’t want to confront him too soon about what happened. I know I’m hurting him inside somewhere, but I don’t usually have the time to focus on what I want and shit like that, especially since every day used to be devoted to protecting my sister and getting us away from our dad.

Debbie was still trying to learn more words at the dinner table, and Mandy and I helped her out with some of them. As I did, though, I noticed Ian looking over at me from the corner of his eye. He still had that stupid, depressing look on his face, and I was gonna gag any minute if I didn’t look away.

Bedtime came before any of us knew it. Before then, though, I had taken the opportunity to look through our black book over for a few moments, my fingers tracing over some of Ian’s handwriting. We had been using this damn thing for weeks, and some unknown idiot could read it and already start turning it into a goddamn movie. About half of it was a whole bunch of random shit like which one, between Marvel and DC, was the better franchise, or which celebrity would we fuck. Most of this stuff was Ian’s forte, so he basically did most of the talking.

Still, I learned a lot from reading this notebook. Not just some of the stuff Ian liked and hated, but that he’s willing to listen to my ideas and shit and not have anything fucking bogus to say back. He’s not judgmental when it comes to me.

Was that was love was supposed to be? Was it supposed to feel like no one in the world gives two shits about how right or wrong your opinion is? Is loving someone just talking about dumb shit back and forth like best friends would?  How can one even tell the fucking difference between friendship and love anyway?

I was washing my face and stuff after a long shower – hopefully no one’s gonna bitch about the water the next morning – when I saw him standing by the door frame, arms crossed as he looked into my eyes through the reflection of the mirror. A part of me wanted to tell him to get the fuck out and wait in line in the hallway, but I didn’t have the courage to do so, mostly due to the fact that he still wants to talk about this personal love shit.

Seconds into drying my face off, and the door was already closed behind Ian. The redhead got a couple of steps closer until he was about eight inches away from my back. That didn’t stop the hairs on my fucking neck from standing up.

“I know you’re not used to this stuff, Mickey.” I saw him sign and speak through the mirror reflection. Truth be told, he was actually getting better at the signing than I expected. He had been studying the books for weeks, and now he can form most of the words that he looked up. Some of them needed work, and he mostly used his lips so I could read them whenever he forgot how to sign a word or two, but he improved a great deal. “I know you’re not used to people saying that to you very often.” Strangely, I knew where this was going, and I immediately the demons attacking my stomach and the nerves throughout my limbs.

I slowly turned around, my hand gripping onto the edge of the sink as Ian stood there, eyes on me with no hint of emotion in his face. “Milkoviches don’t do love, is that right?” he challenged, again with no emotion whatsoever. “Your father probably says that a lot.”

My blood started to boil a little bit at the mention of my father. “You don’t know what my father does,” I signed back defensively.

“It’s not a fucking secret, Mickey.” Ian signed and spoke back. “You and Mandy were literally brainwashed when you were living under his roof.”

“You have no idea what you’re fucking talking about.”

“Yes, I do. And you can’t sit there and tell me that I don’t because, as far as I can see, you don’t have my brain or my eyes, Mickey. We see things differently. You think everything is fine when I can see that it really isn’t. You and Mandy think that your old man is just having a bad day when I can see that he just doesn’t give a shit about you guys.”

“Fuck you.”

Ian stared back at me before he chuckled and folded his arms again. I never before wanted to leave a conversation as much as I wanted to leave this one. God, Ian was a pain in the ass.

“Is that all you have to say?” Ian spoke and signed for me.

Of course, me being the stubborn jackass, I had to find a way to get out of the bathroom so we could drop this thing altogether; unfortunately, _Ian_ being the stubborn jackass he is, he just had to grab onto my arm and turn me around, pressing my back up against the wall and looking at me with those damn green eyes. _Fuck_.

I could feel Ian’s breath from where I stood. He still had that mint flavor in his mouth from brushing his teeth earlier. His skin was soft and clean after the shower he took. His red hair was slightly wet but not to the point where he would need to ring out a cup full of water out of it. His eyes ultimately got darker once he got that close to me, and I, for the life of me, tried figuring out how it was humanly possible for someone to look that goddamn attractive.

Ian’s thumbs were rubbing my upper arms before I saw him mouth, “You can reject everything I say as much as you can, but I’m not taking it back.” From the way his face looked, his tone was probably hard and matched the frown he had on his face. I couldn’t hear it, but for some reason, I could feel it. When he spoke, I felt tiny hairs on my skin stand like I was about to go into some electrical shock. “I love you, Mickey,” he repeated. “I love everything about you.”

After that, his hard exterior left the features of his face. His eyes fell from my eyes down to a spot on the ground. As he did so, his hands fell from my arms to my thighs, the pads on his fingers reaching bare skin down there that gave me the shivers. I kept my eyes on his lips so I could interpret what he was saying. “I love your legs,” Ian continued, and all I could think of was whether or not he could get any dorkier. “Their length, their shape…” Ian added, followed by a smirk. “These things can get you anywhere, never mind that they make you short.”

I frowned at him, pushing a hand against Ian’s chest before signing. “Fuck off.”

Ian smirked at me again before he bit his bottom lip and looked up and down my body. Was Gallagher trying to check me out?

He grabbed me from under my arms and pulled me forward a bit, and right there was when I felt his hand slap my ass. He was bound to leave a hand mark there, even if I had my boxers on, but I didn’t give a shit. It kinda felt good, actually. “No one ever told you that you were thick, did they?”

I rolled my eyes and felt the red blush creep on my cheeks. _Fucking Gallagher_.

“I love that, too.” Ian went on, that shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “I love seeing it from far away when you use those legs to make that swagger walk of yours.” God, he was so fucking ridiculous.

Ian’s hands returned to my butt, rubbing and squeezing a bit there and making my legs feel like jelly. His fingers trailed up underneath my shirt and rubbed against my back, his eyes still on mine. “You probably have a lot of tension in your back and your shoulder blades from all of the work you do to keep yourself and your sister safe.” Ian’s face fell a bit, a combination of sadness and remorse in his features. “I love that, Mick. God, I love that so much. You work so hard to help your sister, and my heart hurts whenever your hard work seems to come tumbling down by the likes of your father.”

My eyes fell at the mention of my father and my sister. They’re both really touchy subjects for me, I’m sure Ian knows this. For some reason, he always wants to explore that stuff about me, and it scares me sometimes.

Ian brought one of his hands up to my chin, lifting it so I could look back into his eyes again. Soon as he did that, I felt his other hand go from my back to my stomach and chest.

“I see half of the pain over here,” Ian continued, a sad expression on his face. “You’re always getting punched, kicked, cracked open…” I gulped, feeling something in the back of my eye threatening to get out. “I hate that about you, that you’re always getting hurt, even when you’re only out doing good things. But you wanna know what I love the most, Mickey?” He paused, gazing into my eyes. “I love that you’re always getting back up. You don’t stay down, Mick. You keep getting up and doing what you do best, and that has to be one of your best qualities.”

My nerves got the better of me as Ian dragged his hand from underneath my shirt and to my right arm and shoulder. His other hand fell from my chin to the left side of my body, and both hands rubbed up and down the length of my arms. “I love your shoulders and arms, the muscle that you have in them and how strong they are,” Ian continued. “You’re strong everywhere, Mickey. I can feel it. You don’t even have to add that much pressure to your arm muscles, because there’s not much you can prove to me that I don’t already know.”

I inhaled a bit, and I could already tell that my breaths were getting shaky.

Ian’s hands softly went over the skin on my arms for a few more seconds, sensing that I was getting overly emotional about this shit, and they found themselves going up to my neck. “Your neck keeps your entire head upright on your shoulders,” I saw Ian mouth out, rubbing his right hand on the left side of my neck, “kinda like how you’re always trying to keep yourself and your sister up with every fall you encounter.”

As Ian’s hands found their way up to my head, I bit hard on my bottom lip. I could feel his fingers on my ears, and I wanted him to stop there. Every time someone reminds me of how I cannot use my sense of hearing anymore, it just hurts too much. I could tell Ian knew I was hurting, too; he doesn’t have any intention on hurting me, though. Shit, I mean, he loves all these things about me, he says.

“Your dad’s always putting you in situations you don’t deserve to be in,” Ian continued after a moment of stillness. He rubbed at the sides of my head, his pinkies grazing over my ears. I had to bite the inside of my cheek as I felt the lump in my throat getting bigger. “It’s bullshit to hear about the things he did that made your hearing go away.”

Ian looked like he was about to cry himself, but for some reason, there were no tears in his eyes. “I love that you were able to get back up from this, Mickey, because I can’t imagine what would have happened if you didn’t. I hate that you have to live with this for the rest of your life and that you haven’t been able to communicate like you wanted to, but you’re finding alternatives. And fuck the rest of the world if they can’t accept you for who you are.”

I didn’t even have to hear what Ian had to say to understand where he’s coming from and how strong the tone of his words were. I could feel them, even when Ian was putting his hands on different parts of my body. They were so fucking strong that not even my damn arms could push them away.

After a second, Ian brought his hands from my ears to my cheeks, caressing them softly as he stared into my eyes again. “I love your face,” Ian continued, his thumbs making circles by my nose. “I love when you make those animated facial expressions of yours.” He paused and snickered a bit. “When your eyebrows would dance like they’re meant to move on their own.” I rolled my eyes a bit, but that didn’t stop him from going on and on about my damn face.

“Your face is the main face I want to see every day, Mickey,” Ian went on. “You don’t know how much I think about it while I’m in school. This damn thing is always in my head when my head should be in the books.” I huffed out a laugh, looking down at our feet from where I stood, pressing my lips against each other. Ian was such a school girl; it’s fucking crazy, actually.

Suddenly, his thumb ran over my skin from my cheek to my bottom lip. I looked back into his eyes again, and all he did was stare for a moment. He shook his head slowly, mesmerized for some fucking reason. “I love all of these things that make me so attracted to you, Mickey,” Ian concluded, his eyes never leaving mine. “Your muscles, your limbs, your hands…” One of his hands went up my face, his thumb rubbing a little close to my right eye. “Your beautiful, piercing blue eyes…” Fuck me if Ian really thought that my eyes were fucking beautiful.

He stopped for about a minute, the thumb on his right hand slowly rubbing on my bottom lip. I swore I could see his heart beating through his chest as he looked down at it. I could also feel him get a little closer to me, his lips lowering to the same level as mine. His breath was heavy, and more shivers went up my back. “Your lips…”

We stood there for another minute, my heart threatening to burst out of my own chest. “These lips can say a lot of things, but I know in this wonderful head of yours that you want them to say something else.”

That was it. I couldn’t take it much longer, for Ian’s breath kept sending sparks throughout my entire body. The fact that Ian actually cares about me this much is why the sparks hit me so hard. It’s like I was four years old again, becoming a victim to the explosion that got rid of my hearing. But this explosion wasn’t bad; this was the most tolerable one I have experienced. This one was better because I’m in Ian Gallagher’s fucking space.

Our lips had gotten that close to each other, taking in each other’s breaths for a second before Ian’s pressed against mine. His lips were wet – like really fucking wet. They felt so good compared to mine, but when our lips were together, it was different. I didn’t know how to explain it.

After that night, I could say that this was the best kiss Ian and I shared. And I don’t usually admit to being wrong, but Ian was right; nothing was going to stop him from loving me. He loves everything about me, for Christ's sakes.

Hell, I probably love him, too, or whatever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had major writer's block with this story, but thank God I was able to get this one published. Let me know what you guys think, and if you want me to write any one-shots or anything like that, send them to [my Tumblr](http://promqueen-and-hairgel.tumblr.com/). And happy reading. :)


	27. First Time for Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ian studied the expression on my face, confused as to why I wanted him to stop. I wasn’t sure what made me want to tell Ian this specific part of my life, but I felt like he should know before something goes wrong and we end up having to pick up the pieces later on."

I have no idea on what the fuck I’m supposed to do. Ever since last night, I can’t stop thinking about what Ian said. He hid all of this shit he felt about me since…well, forever, it feels like, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it or how I’m supposed to take it. Should I do the same thing for him and tell him all that cheesy shit about his fucking red hair and his green eyes? I’m not that kind of person; I don’t go all girly and shit and talk about people’s body parts like that.

Then he’s looking at me like I’m the best thing in the world to him, managing to hypnotize me like one of those fucking idiots in those circus tents. It doesn’t stop there. He does more. He _wants_ to do more. He wants _me_ to do more. I’m not sure to what extent more really is, but he knows I can’t give him too much, given my circumstances. My Dad will eventually find out and kill me before the cops even get the chance to find him.

The two of us hung out in the van again the next day. The house was quiet as shit today. Mands left with Fiona to find a job to pay for the abortion and the broken window, and the rest of the siblings were either watching television and boring themselves to death or fucking off somewhere else.

Ian made a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches for us and brought out some orange juice and a bottle of Jack Daniels that Frank hid in the cupboards somewhere, and we just sat around and ate while sharing some stuff Ian was looking at on his phone. Most of the videos he tried to find didn’t have any options for subtitles, so that part sucked ass the most, but Ian usually signed a couple of things that was going on – maybe not all of them, because he still didn’t know how to sign complicated ass words like _iridocyclitis_.

This one video we were looking at was basically a compliation of scare cams, some of them being epic fails. I had no fucking idea what they were saying, which pissed me off, but it was funny to see these oblivious ass people lose it and fall on their backs.

I smiled at this one girl that got whacked in the face with a pan when she tried to scare her own dad, and I signed to Ian, “these people are fuckin’ stupid, man.”

Ian laughed in agreement. “That’s what makes it funny, though.” I looked at Ian’s fingers move once he rested his phone on his lap. He was getting better. He even told me how he read the American Sign Language book for at least thirty minutes a day like it’s a bible or something. His commitment is strong, from what I can tell, and I’m thankful for it every day.

We both turned back to the phone screen and watched as this one lady slipped on some ice that was on her front porch when a guy in a gory mask came from around the corner of the house. I started to laugh, wondering how much more dramatic these people could end up seeing someone disguised as a bloody monster appear in their own homes.

Ian was laughing his ass off right next to me to the point where I could see tears in his eyes. Sometimes I wonder what Ian’s laugh sounds like. He probably sounds like some dorky jackass on marijuana, or the biggest fuckin’ kid in a theater watching a lame Johnny Depp movie. It’s bullshit being deaf while knowing that the one person you actually give two shits about is sitting right next to you. Why did life have to fuck me over this time?

His ass was still laughing as the video moved on to some other six-second videos within the video itself, and I slapped him on the chest. When he looked in my direction, I signed, “get a grip, man.” Ian’s laughs subsided as he ran a hand over his face to get rid of the tears that fell from his eyes. What a fucking asshole.

The video eventually ended, and we got all of the laughs out of our system. Figuring out what to do next, Ian grabbed a piece of his still-warm grilled cheese sandwich and took a bite out of it. Some of the cheese was still on the edges of his mouth. God, I miss that mouth. That mouth did some really good things to me. I don’t think I had one moment this past week where I didn’t have a boner comin’ on. One time, I had to cover it up when Ian was all over my ass on the couch before Fiona came in from work. Good thing for Ian’s sense of hearing, because I would have lost it on that damn couch.

I looked at him for a few more seconds, aware that he was catching onto the fact that I was glaring at him. When he turned around with a curious facial expression, my brain seemed to have a mind of its own as I lifted my thumb to Ian’s mouth, wiping the stray cheese away. It lingered there on the thickest part of his bottom lip. Ian had very soft lips, and for the life of me, I can’t seem to get them off my mind.

Ian’s eyes were on mine, I could tell. My eyes flickered up to his, and we just created yet another staring contest between us. I hated thinking that we looked like that one couple off those damn romance movies, but it was starting to feel that, which prompted me to drop my hand down to my side and avert my eyes to something else inside the van. However, I could still feel Ian’s eyes on me. Those green retinas were burning holes on the side of my face, and my nerves couldn’t take it much longer.

One of Ian’s hands reached over to my chin, turning my head back to his as he leaned in and placed those soft lips on top of mine, initiating a heated kiss between us. Ian was so possessive for no fucking reason, his lips having more motion than mine and his hand reaching around to the small of my back. My pants got too fucking tight at this point in our make-out session, and the thought of them sticking to my body was driving me nuts. I needed them off.

It wasn’t until Ian’s hands reached underneath my shirt, a couple of fingers sneaking into the waistband of my pants, that I shoved him away. We were both a panting mess in front of each other, which was undeniably hot, if you asked me. Ian studied the expression on my face, confused as to why I wanted him to stop. I wasn’t sure what made me want to tell Ian this specific part of my life, but I felt like he should know before something goes wrong and we end up having to pick up the pieces later on.

So I eyed him back and started signing to him, “I’m a virgin.”

He frowned again, primarily because he didn’t know what the sign for virgin was just yet. I understood, but I still managed to roll my eyes because I’m a complete jackass who could potentially judge a lot of people like that. Ian’s different. I like him. I _really_ like him. I like him more than anything, and while he doesn’t know everything about the way I communicate, he’s not the biggest idiot in the world. I’ve seen plenty in my lifetime, and Ian’s twelve times smarter than them.

I inhaled some air and started signing the individual letters: the peace sign for the V, the pinkie for the I, the index finger crossed over the middle one for R, the index finger pointed at an angle for G, another pinkie for I, and my index and middle finger over the thumb for N.

Ian formed a circle with his lips as he caught on with the conversation. All I did after that was duck my head to hide the shame I was suddenly feeling. It was then that I felt Ian’s hand on my chin again. He signed to me, “it’s okay if you’re a virgin.”

“It feels kind of weird,” I signed back.

“How so?”

“Everyone’s having sex around my age, right?” I explained. “Even kids who are younger than me.”

“Some for the wrong reasons,” Ian responded, and neither one of us said anything after that. How was I supposed to know anything about sex? I never been in a relationship, let alone had a boyfriend, nor do I know the first thing about what people in relationships do when they want to have sex. Am I supposed to feel something for it? I know what it’s like to just masturbate since no one else is involved, but with another person?

Or maybe it’s the fact that it’s me and Ian – two guys with no vagina in the relationship. Like, does Ian even bottom? Sure as fuck doesn’t look like it. Hell, I don’t even know if I would wanna bottom, either. Doesn’t that shit hurt?

Ian’s hand touched my knee, sensing that I was zoning out for a moment. He signed, “we don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

The really crazy thing, though: I want to do it. I want Ian to have sex with me. I want him to show me what I’ve been missing out on. I want Ian to make me feel things that I never felt before. I want all of this shit, but I’m nervous as hell as to how it would even go. I never fucking did this before and don’t know what it will be like, as much as I want it. Unfortunately, for my sister, it didn’t turn out so well for her since the guy who banged her is the same dick head that put a goddamn roof over our heads. I don’t want to think about sex with Ian as the terrible shit Mandy has been through, but when you have a baby sister you love so much that’s depressed over getting raped by her father, it’s kinda hard.

But Ian and my dad are two different people – and not just by the way they look, the tone of their voices, and all that other shit. My dad is a complete asshole who just wants things given to him. Ian is literally the textbook definition of a saint who wants everyone to be happy, for once. Rape wouldn’t ever be in Ian’s resume of things he would be willing to do, unlike my fuckin’ old man who would rather taint my sister’s virginity than stay sober for at least two fucking minutes.

That’s the thing I also like about Ian. He literally just reminded me that we don’t have to have sex if I don’t want to. He’s so damn polite about it, and it’s the greatest thing ever. It’s not just sex that I’ve been missing all this time; it’s _Ian_. It’s Ian that I’ve been wanting this whole time, and I didn’t realize it until now.

Finally, I gazed back into the redhead’s eyes for at least a minute before I signed to him, “I wanna do it.” Shit, I don’t even care if I end up with a sore ass or wobbly legs when we get out of here. I just want Ian.

He nodded at me, a little unsure if he wanted to really continue or not with this new information I gave him. It was like that for a couple of seconds before I leaned over to him and kissed him dead on the lips. If this was going to be my first time having sex, I’d rather share the mind-boggling experience with my first real boyfriend. To this day, it’s still unreal that I’m referring to Ian as my boyfriend, but we established this thing a long time ago, and it’s starting to catch on just a little.

We sat there for at least five minutes, making out as softly yet hungrily at the same time. Ian’s hands found their way to my face, his thumbs caressing my cheeks as we ate the shit out of each other’s mouths. He was really gentle this time, taking everything one step at a time. He respects that it’s my first time doing this, which was perfect because I needed some guidance into this whole thing as possible.

Ian’s hands lowered eventually to the point where they were holding onto my waist. My pants were still tight on my legs, thanks to this damn erection I was having, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted Ian. No, scratch that – I needed Ian. I needed to know what it feels like to have him in me. What do gay guys feel when someone’s dick is thrusting inside you like that? No fuckin’ clue.

I lifted my hands off of Ian’s body as he started to remove my shirt. Ian stopped for a moment to look down at some faded scars that were on my body. Some of those were from the accident that led to my hearing loss; others were there due to the physical abuse I experienced as a kid after Mama died. With Ian’s eyes lingering over every cut, old and new, I started feeling a little insecure, folding my arms in front of myself and keeping my eyes down. This was probably one of the reasons why I didn’t have sex, aside from the fact that I never had anyone to have sex with. I hate it when people fucking look at me like that.

At this, Ian brought his hand back to my chin and lifting it so we were looking into each other’s eyes again. God, I get too vulnerable with that shit. Ian inspected my face, with some remorse and understanding to his own, before he reached both of his arms around me and tightened his hold around my shorter body. Ian was so warm. His hair was probably the flames of the fire he had inside of him for when he wanted to make people feel better. I wouldn’t be surprised.

We looked at each other again and continued to kiss. The kiss itself felt different this time around, most likely due to the overpowering thought of all the hell that I’ve been through these few years in my life. I didn’t even know Ian existed before that point. The day Mandy and I moved to the South Side, it was like the world I’ve known all this time was finally seeing the sun once again, and it was sticking around to stay, no bullshit guaranteed.

Eventually, our kisses got a little sloppier, for the hunger we both possessed started to become too much for us. Ian’s hands started going lower and lower, and I let him do whatever he wanted with me. We gave each other a helping hand into getting my jeans removed – they were a bitch to get off – and I was in nothing but boxers soon enough.

Ian made a hand gesture, telling me to lay down on the giant, thick blanket that covered the van floor, and I did. Ian was on top of me before I knew it, kissing me on the lips a couple more times before his lips found my cheeks. They were going wild all over me, and it was the best feeling ever. My boner was getting way too uncomfortable as Ian’s lips found their way from my jaw bone all the way down to my neck, leaving a hickey on an area of skin where no one would see it if I was clothed. The last time he left a hickey on me, Mandy and Fiona were bitchin’ about it to each other like little school girls, so I’m at least glad that Ian remembered that experience.

Ian’s mouth traveled further south – on my shoulders, on my chest, on my nipples. Jesus Christ, we didn’t even fuck each other yet, and this alone feels so fucking good. Ian’s tongue game was crazy as hell. It was warm and fast against my skin, and as I closed my eyes just thinking about what it was doing, I could already feel my boxers get a little wet from the precome that was coming out of my own dick.

My heart started pumping a little fast as Ian’s lips got down to my groin area. This all was moving so fast, even if we were kissing and stuff for over fifteen minutes. Ian’s kisses below my stomach area were painfully slow, and at one point, I had to kick him in the side to get a move-on. With a tongue of wonder like Ian’s, patience was the last thing that I would be holding onto.

With a final wet kiss on my skin, Ian sat up for a moment to pull my boxers off, and I was left laying there with my dick sticking out at him and my ass rubbing against thick fabric. It felt weird being exposed like this in front of him; then again, he’s slapped my ass before, so it’s not that new.

When Ian started to remove his own shirt off his body, I felt like I was watching the best movie ever created. I licked my lips as I got a glimpse of Ian’s muscular chest. Everything from his little six-pack to his arms was fucking perfect. I looked like a goddamn amateur in comparison. It made me wonder what he looked like working out and shit like that. I could get used to someone who was a literal redheaded sex machine like him.

I sat up for a moment to kiss Ian like he did with me. His skin tasted so good, especially in the area where his neck was. I’m not sure how he feels about hickeys and stuff, so I decided not to leave one. All I did was let my own tongue find each and every spot on Ian’s front, keeping his taste in my memory.

My mouth left his body after leaving wet kisses around his stomach area. I never sucked a dick before, let alone seen a live one before my eyes. How do people take that shit? Is it supposed to be as good as they say it is? And what was Ian’s supposed to taste like? Was it even safe doing this shit?

Ian crawled to the side for a moment, reaching for something in the black backpack across from us. When his hand came out of the open part, I noticed that he was holding a condom and a bottle of lube. He placed the lube bottle to the side for a moment, unwrapping the condom with his teeth and rolling it onto his dick. One of us was thinking about safety around here, and good for that, because I ain’t gonna walk around with a mouth virus or some shit like that. Whether I like Ian or not, the two of us gotta be protected. I’m already facing a battle with my dad; I’ll be damned if someone in a lab coat told Ian and I that we were gonna die from an STD.

Once Ian was situated, he crawled back to me, and his dick was right near my face like it previously was. I looked up at him from where I knelt in front of him, still undecided if I should go with this or not. Ian just looked down at me with some assurance, his hand rubbing me on the top of my head like I was a damn dog.

After taking a moment to brace myself, I decided to go for it. And thank God I did, because Ian’s length was so fucking awesome. I didn’t know how to describe it, really. He was really hard down there, probably as much as I was seconds earlier. Ian was also fucking rough, for his hands grabbed onto my hair as I sucked him down. My cheeks hollowed once Ian’s dick made it halfway into my mouth. If only I could hear what Ian sounded like; I could feel his vibrations against my mouth, so that was something, at least.

We kept at it for a couple of minutes. According to Ian, I was better at this than expected. He just wouldn’t stop touching me or getting me to swallow him whole. Ian’s dick was so fucking long for no reason. It’s like I was eating the biggest, warmest Popsicle ever created. At one point, it started reaching the back of my throat, and I felt myself gag a bit. My stomach was a little irritated by that, but I couldn’t help it. Ian’s too fucking irresistible.

At the last second, Ian shoved me off of him and kissed my lips again. We were such fucking chicks with this stuff. If the younger me told me that I would love to have this guy on me like this, he would have stabbed me in the throat with a pencil. If being gay meant I got to keep Ian Gallagher, then pass on the fuckin’ rainbow.

Ian’s lips released mine before he pushed me back down. His hands grabbed my legs and turned me around until I was laying on my stomach. All of a sudden, I felt a hand slap me on my ass. That alone sent shock throughout my body. Usually I don’t like getting hit by anyone, but when Ian did it in a sexual manner, I didn’t mind as much.

That same hand that slapped my right cheek was rubbing the sore area. It’s probably because of the dad thing I’m having trouble with that’s making him this gentle, but I’m glad that he’s doing it still. Moments later, Ian’s mouth made contact with my skin again, his tongue grazing over my shoulders, spine, and upper and lower back. My breaths got heavier the lower he got. Ian was pretty fucking good at this.

Ian got up for a moment to grab the lube bottle that was abandoned previously, and I turned around to watch him pour some of the substance onto his fingers. I’m not sure what about this part is making me nervous – maybe the fact that Ian’s fingers would eventually be in my ass – but I anxiously held both of my hands together, awaiting what he would do next.

Ian glanced over at me, noticing that I was watching him. He guided me into kneeling position in front of him and mouthed to me, “are you ready?” Whatever fucking ready was supposed to mean, I might as well be as ready as I’ll ever be.

With a couple of nods, I turned away from him, looking ahead at the van’s two front seats. Then, out of nowhere, I felt something cold touch my butt, and that alone prompted me to grab onto the blanket underneath me with force. Ian’s finger snuck in between my ass crack and found its way further inside. Once it got the chance to touch the ring of muscle down there, my eyes shut completely as I felt the finger do its work.

Not even two minutes later, another finger made it inside me, and I was already a groaning mess. I knew the hands and fingers were capable of doing a lot of things, but certainly not that. As hard as it is to believe, I fingered myself before, but it was nothing like this. Maybe it’s just Ian or the fact that someone else other than me is doing it, but damn, I need this to be done on me more often.

A third finger found its way inside, and Ian was working those damn things, scissoring the shit out of me to the point where I couldn’t tell if I was groaning or whining my ass off. If I could hear myself right now, I probably wouldn’t like it as much. I probably sound like a damn baby or some shit.

Minutes later, Ian had taken all three fingers out of my hole. I turned back around and noticed that he was putting some lube on his dick, squeezing himself occasionally and getting the condom-wrapped length slick enough to go in me as easy as it could. This was the part I was anticipating the most. I’m a combination of terrified and impatient when it comes to Ian’s nine-inch cock all up in my ass.

He looked at me again and mouthed, “you okay?” I nodded, my fingers grabbing onto the blanket underneath us.

Not even a second passed before I felt something really thick and wet, and by the time it made its way inside of my ass, I felt a moan escape the back of my throat.

Shit, Ian was so fucking thick. When his dick was in my mouth, it wasn’t even that much of a big deal. Now it’s found its way through my entrance, which was smaller and tighter in comparison. My goddamn legs were shaking. This should hurt, considering that Ian was bigger than I thought he would, but it also felt so different and amazing.

We sat there for a few minutes, and I took in the feeling for as long as I could. I could literally feel myself being stretched out down there, and I don’t even care if I ripped up to the middle of my back. Ian Gallagher was inside me, and I could be in this position until the world ended as we know it.

Eventually, Ian started to pull out just a little only to slam back in, and another moan came from my mouth. Jesus, I probably sound like a twink right now. Ian continued to thrust in and out, starting off slowly so I could get the hang of it. The thrusts hurt a little at first, but Ian made sure that I wasn’t in too much pain, occasionally rubbing and kissing my back. His lips were so goddamn good.

Before I knew it, Ian sped up the pace. My eyes shut as more friction was added. There were times where Ian poked at my fucking prostate, and that had to have been the best shit I have ever felt. I dropped my head and moaned in pleasure, and Ian seemed to have gotten the point. He kept poking at that same area, and my breath hitched every single time.

My own dick was leaking from the sensation of it all. I couldn’t resist all of this. My right hand grabbed myself and squeezed a little softly, and that mixed with Ian fucking me from behind was almost too much for me to handle. I could feel myself reaching my own climax, and I wasn’t even sure if I would survive through it or not. Ian seemed to be towards his, too, because he kept on speeding up, and his grip on my hips were very tight.

I jerked off a few more times and relished in Ian’s quick movements. Soon enough, I came very hard into my own hand. I never had an intense orgasm like that before, and it felt so good – hell, better than masturbation alone.

Ian came seconds after, filling up the entire condom with his own sperm. I could feel it from where I was kneeling in front of him. His was warm. He must have anticipated this shit as much as I did.

We sat like that for a couple of seconds, dying down our heavy breaths and whatnot until Ian pulled out and removed the condom from off his dick, tossing it in a plastic bag in the corner somewhere. That was when I collapsed on the van floor, trying to take the stress off my arms and legs. Jesus Christ, sex did a number on your limbs, didn’t they?

Ian’s hand was running all over my back side – from my ass towards the back of my neck as he crawled over and rested his body next to mine. He had a post-coital smile on his face, and I couldn’t help but smile myself. This was my first time having sex, and I had sex with Ian Gallagher. Best fucking Saturday ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literally the first legit sex scene I wrote for this fandom (aside from the one-shot I previously published), and idek if it's that good or not. Dx
> 
> Anyways, thank you to everyone that has been reading this story. More to come soon. ;)


	28. The Sounds of Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The only two good things death brought to us was the separation from our dad and the reunion with our mother. Hell, I’d rather choose death over coming back to that damn house, but I trust Fiona, Ian, and the rest of the Gallaghers, along with Kev and Vee next door, to protect us."

The moment was all too real, but I felt like I was floating through a fantasy world where everything felt, smelled, looked, sounded, and even tasted like perfection.

I just had sex with Mickey Milkovich for the first time.

Replaying the statement in my head didn’t even feel right after we did it, yet it actually was at the same time. The sex itself wasn’t like the sex I had with other guys in the past, and I’ve had my share of guys I’ve fucked. Roger Spikey, Kash Karib, a couple of lacrosse players from my high school, one of the guys from ROTC practice – they were good in their own right, but none of them were Mickey Milkovich.

After our sexual encounter, I started feeling different things for Mickey. Smitten had to be the biggest one. We were still in an affair-like relationship, but that didn’t stop the stupid fucking smile from spreading on my face. I hated Mickey for that, the way he makes me look like a complete jackass. Not to mention that he was attractive as hell. It would be even better if he didn’t have those scars and bruises on his body from that asshole of a father; just looking at them makes me want to punch a hole in the wall.

We kept looking at each other as we came down from our highs. Mickey blushed a couple of times and glanced away out of shyness, and I giggled to myself at how cute he was. One of my hands came to his head, brushing the dark strands off Mickey’s forehead. That’s when he glanced back over at me, hiding his smile in the crook of his elbow. I could tell he was smitten with me as well. He sucked at hiding it sometimes.

My eyes trailed down to his arm hiding his swollen, red lips. That alone made me replay the past couple of minutes, and it got me thinking. Mickey is deaf, yeah, but this was the most noise I’ve ever heard him make in a while. I’ve heard him laugh a couple of times – maybe let out a groan here or there – but other than that, that was it. Mickey’s not a very vocal person, which made me a little more curious than I should be.

I noticed Mickey frown in my direction, indicating that there was something wrong. I let go of the side of his face and started signing to him to the best of my abilities. “Have you ever tried to speak?”

Mickey swallowed down the lump that was suddenly forming in his throat. Had I known that would be his reaction, and I wouldn’t have asked for it in the first place. He self-consciously adjusted looked away for a moment, probably to calm himself before the butterflies in his stomach overtook him or something like that, and then he looked back over at me. “No.”

There was a beat in our conversation. I needed to give Mickey a moment, because talking about this kind of stuff seemed hard on him. However, I didn’t see anything wrong with his voice. I might be biased or something since I was getting him hot and heavy moments ago, but it was a really nice voice. I never heard anything like it before. His grunts were low and sent shivers up my spine. His breathless sighs were music to my ears. His moans took my own breath away. Mickey doesn’t realize how beautiful he actually sounds.

After a few more moments, my eyes fell upon Mickey, who had his head turned away from me and facing something in front of him. I scooted over a little until my arm was around his bare back, my hand caressing his right shoulder. He slowly turned his head towards me, still ashamed. Regardless, I kept my green eyes on his blue ones for a few seconds before placing a soft, warm kiss against Mickey’s left shoulder.

“I love your voice.” I mouthed to him as sincerely as possible.

Mickey just scoffed and signed, “you’re just saying that because of the sex.”

“It’s not even about the sex,” I responded, my eyes never leaving his. Mickey’s eyes darted towards the soft blanket we were laying on, picking at some of the fabric with his index finger and thumb. My hand reached his chin, turning his head back towards me. “I love your voice, Mick.” I repeated myself. “It’s really nice. I just wondered if anyone knew how great it was.”

Mickey shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek before signing, “Mandy…Mama…my brothers…” He paused and added, “before I went deaf.” Another pause. “But it wasn’t a big deal to them; I was only a fuckin’ kid.”

I nodded, biting my bottom lip. Mickey hadn’t spoken in years, since he was a toddler. I wouldn’t know shit about that because I never experienced being deaf myself, but that must have been really fucking hard for him. All thanks to his dad, he never said a word all this time in fear that he would be judged for what he sounded like. I could feel my heart shattering for Mickey. I could feel it getting kicked and stomped on like he had been under Terry Milkovich’s roof.

I decided to not ask any more questions about the matter. Anything was better than Mickey getting upset at me for pressing the subject on him and driving him insane. Besides, this was supposed to be a good day. It was too perfect to be ruined. Here we were, practically on top of each other in a post-coital mood, our fingers tracing shapes and stuff over each other’s skin.

Mickey’s perfect, pale, soft skin…

 _Jesus fuck, get it together, Ian_.

After a couple of moments, Mickey had touched me on the arm and signed, “I feel…awkward.”

“What about?”

His eyes fell from mine down to our bodies tangled together. That’s when I started to get the hint. “We could head back inside, if you want.”

Mickey didn’t move from his spot. In fact, he looked more like he was deep in thought. His tattooed fingers found their way to my bicep, making little circles on the muscle. It amazed me how physical Mickey had gotten with me, before and after his first time. He probably wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, and I could say that I’m being a little cocky or biased here, but he likes being around me. I can sense it even from miles away. He’s been comfortable around me before, sure; now, he’s leveled up and exploring some of my different features with the palms of his hands.

So it wasn’t much of a surprise to me when Mickey shyly looked up at me and signed, “or we could go again…you know, if…if you want…”

A smile appeared on my face at the response, and I could see Mickey’s cheeks turn into a bright shade of red. He must have gotten the same idea I had. I thought dimming the light on the level of intimacy we’re at right now would be a better idea since this was Mickey’s first sexual encounter, but Mickey seemed to have gotten comfortable with the concept of sex now that we did it together already.

So I obliged, and before we knew it, our fingers were tangled in each other’s hair once again. The summer wasn’t too far away, but it felt like it already arrived.

* * *

To my surprise, I was able to land a job at this restaurant close to the school. The manager, Lucas, said that we could work around my school hours so I could get my homework and all of that other shit done in time. I would be working after school from about four to eight every day with relatively ten dollars an hour. Hopefully, if I work hard enough, I can earn some to even half of the money Fiona needs for the abortion and the broken window.

Proud was an understatement to how I was feeling. I actually felt like I was worth something now. Before, when Mickey and I were under our dad’s roof, men and boys were primarily the ones with jobs, even if they were illegal as shit. It’s like we were trapped back in history or something. Not to mention the fact that Dad used to shit on me for his ideas about getting an actual education. I’m the only Milkovich still in school that we know of. I don’t want to end up like scums like my dad and my older brothers.

Besides, it’ll get Mickey and I out of the South Side as fast as possible, and I was willing to make that happen.

“I’m really happy for you.” Fiona’s voice pierced through my thoughts, and I turned towards her as we walked through the Gallagher house. She had that sympathetic, motherly smile on her face, and I would be lying if I said that I didn’t love having someone in my life who did that to me again. “You’re doing the right thing.”

I gulped at her response before glancing back up at her. “Thanks, Fiona.” That was when I reached my arms out, and she embraced me in a warm, tight hug. We were like that for a couple of seconds before Fiona let me go, heading upstairs to check on Liam before she prepared lunch.

Everyone else was up to their own thing for the day, I suppose, so I elected to take a seat on the couch and start watching a movie on Lifetime, even though I wasn’t really too interested in it. I was about to rest my eyes for a minute, and then my phone buzzed in my pocket. When I looked at the caller ID, my heart stopped beating.

It was my brother, Iggy.

Whatever made me answer his call, I’m not exactly sure. I have no idea what made me trust Iggy enough to call him back, either, but he was the only brother I had other than Mickey who I could talk to without him snitching or any type of shit like that.

Then again, if Dad was breathing down his neck, listening for any answers to his manhunt for me and Mickey, Iggy was no longer reliable.

“Iggy?” I spoke into the receiver, a little worried about what he would say.

“Mands, hey.” He answered back. Something about this conversation didn’t seem like it would end well.

“Is Dad with you?” I asked just to make sure.

“Nah. He passed out on the couch again, but I’m outside with a smoke.”

I felt relieved, even if it was for a second, but a part of me felt like Dad was silently listening off the side somewhere. It’s better to be safe than sorry…or however that fucking saying goes.

“But he’s been asking where you and Mick were,” Iggy added with some uncertainty in his voice. He paused. “He’s kinda fucking pissed off. He said, and I quote, _I’m gonna kill those fucking Gallaghers_ , too, or some shit –“

“We’re not coming back home, Igg.” I firmly declared, trying to keep my guard up. The last thing I wanted for the day was to deal with my piece of shit dad after receiving the best news of the week. Iggy had no idea what was going on, but my I couldn’t help it; my anger suddenly overtook every other emotion I was feeling.

“He’s got his boys doing rotations around the neighborhood, Mandy. He’s pretty serious about this.”

“Well, who’s fucking fault is that?” My voice rose all of a sudden.

I can’t go back to that house. Better yet, I _won’t_ go back to that fucking hell hole. Mickey and I were fine here. I had a job to work at to pay Fiona back for the abortion and other fees she needed; Mickey had someone to hang out with that wasn’t Dad or one of our brothers, even if Ian and I were in school; no one got repetitively punched in the face; and no one’s forced to do anything for anyone. This is what a real family feels like, not that fucking shit show back at our house.

There was a silence between me and Iggy, and I checked to see if anyone else was eavesdropping on the conversation. Luckily, no one else was there.

“I don’t give two shits if he gets caught by the police – hell, I don’t even care what the reason would be. I mean, shit, he’s stolen from a shit ton of people even before we moved, in addition to the fact that he kept hitting the both of us and treating us like goddamn dogs.”

“He only asked you to do a favor –“

“What the fuck?” My frown deepened automatically, and I felt my grip on my phone getting harder. I knew Iggy wasn’t book smart or anything, but I never pegged him for being this dumb and inconsiderate. Mickey and I were literally fighting for our lives here, and Iggy’s defending Dad? “Iggy, have you lost your fucking mind?”

Iggy immediately started stuttering. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you guys –“

“So you expect us to go back there and have him kick us and break glass against our heads?”

“You know, it’s better than having him shoot you both in the head and killing you!”

We both paused the conversation, and I was ultimately stunned. A part of me felt like I could never forgive Iggy for what he said. He wanted us to come back so we could get hurt once again, whichever method Dad tries to choose. A real older brother wouldn’t want us going through that shit, and it made me hate Iggy so much for it.

But then again, he was also thinking about us. We were literally hiding away from Dad, and there’s no telling what the consequences would be. One day, he could break into the house like he did earlier with Mickey – but he could actually kill us this time, and then there wouldn’t be hope for either one of us. Neither I nor Mickey would have the chance to fulfill our hearts’ desires for our future – that is, if we were actually going to have one.

The only two good things death brought to us was the separation from our dad and the reunion with our mother. Hell, I’d rather choose death over coming back to that damn house, but I trust Fiona, Ian, and the rest of the Gallaghers, along with Kev and Vee next door, to protect us.

Tears threatened to come down from my eyes, but I wasn’t going to let them. Not today. I’m going to have a damn good day, whether Dad likes it or not. He can go fuck himself. “I’ll take my chances,” I finally told Iggy, keeping my voice as firm as possible. “Not just for me, but for Mickey and the neighbors, too. Dad can stay mad at us, for all I care.”

Iggy didn’t say anything back, which probably means that he doesn’t agree too much with my decision. It was my only decision, though. I loved Iggy as much as I loved Mickey, truth be told, but getting killed by my dad was not an option here.

My mind started to drift off for a moment before something came to mind. “You think you can find some stray cash for me back at the house?” I asked, a little unsure to what Iggy’s reaction would be.

“You trying to move out or some shit?”

“I’m not moving out. I just need the money.”

“For what?”

“What does it fucking matter?”

“Well, if you insist on leaving me here to watch Dad crumble his face even further than it already is, I would like to know what the fuck I’m getting into.”

I sighed reluctantly. There was no other way around it now that Iggy was pestering me about the purpose of the money, so I might as well let it out while I still can. “I’m pregnant.”

Iggy was silent for a good three minutes, and the quietness was getting on my nerves. “What the fuck?”

I nodded, gulping down the lump in my throat. “I’m aborting it, though, so Dad doesn’t have to worry about raising another kid or anything like that.”

“What, you got boned by the quarterback of the football team?”

“It’s worse than that, actually.”

“The English teacher? The janitor?”

“Dad.”

Another bone-chilling pause came about. This was the part where I started feeling like I made one of the worst mistakes of my life. I wanted to take it back so bad, but there was no U-turn on this fucking rode, which sucked major ass.

“You fucked Dad?” Iggy had a tone that I was unable to identify, and it honestly scared me shitless.

I shooked my head and sniffled. “Dad fucked me.” I paused. “He was drunk. I didn’t want it, but –“

“Holy shit, Mands.” Iggy groaned on the other line. “Why the fuck didn’t you fucking –“

“I didn’t want Dad to find out, or he would kill me first!” A tear fell from my right eye down to my cheek. If anyone was paying attention to my conversation now, it would probably be embarrassing as shit. “A-and Mickey, he wanted to call the police hours after it happened, Iggy, but I was too fucking scared. I was a fucking scared, little girl who worried about what her daddy would do if he found out about the devil fetus growing inside of her fucking body!”

My body got weak after that. Yelling and crying at the same time hurts. Having to hide away from the one person people would expect to give a shit about you hurts. Looking at my older brother and crying every time he frowned at someone when they weren’t speaking in sign language hurts. Waking up from a Dad-induced nightmare hurts. Actually being related to him fucking hurts. I hate hurting all of the time, but my body won’t stop throbbing from the amount of it.

A few more tears fell down my face, and I could already sense that my eye makeup was washing off from the salty tracks of them all over my cheeks. Iggy didn’t say anything after my rant to him, most likely since I was a sobbing fucking mess right now.

Suddenly, two tattooed hands gripped onto my upper arms, and I looked to my left and noticed Mickey sitting there with a sad expression on his face. His right hand kept rubbing at my right arm, keeping me ground as much as he could, and then he leaned onto my left shoulder, not letting me go for even a second. Ian appeared on my right side, looking at me with concern written all over his features.

I looked away from both of them, sniffling some more from my tears and wiping some of them from underneath my nose. “Iggy, just –“ I started, but I felt myself losing my composure. “I need the money as soon as you can get it, alright?”

Iggy sighed on the other line. “I’m on it, Mands.”

“Iggy –“ I immediately spoke, worrying that he would hang up or something like that. “Please don’t let Dad know that I called, or about the baby. Don’t let him know anything. I’m begging you, please.”

“Mandy,” Iggy replied, trying to calm me down, which I really appreciate since I can feel my head about to explode any minute. “Everything will be fine. He won’t know a thing.”

I released a breath that I didn’t know I was holding in before I thanked him, the both of us hanging up on each other. I placed the phone in my lap, staring down at the carpet on the ground below my feet. Ian’s stare was still on me, and I could feel Mickey adjust his head so he could get a better look at me.

“Ian,” I spoke to the redhead next to me. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Ian means well, don’t get me wrong; I just prefer to relax my brain from what all has happened within the span of approximately seven minutes. And Ian seemed to understand, for he rubbed my back for comfort in response. After that, the three of us just watched random shows on TV to waste time, and I couldn’t have felt luckier to have these two idiots by my side.

* * *

I couldn’t sleep. I mean, how would anybody expect me to get any fucking sleep knowing that something was clearly wrong with my little sister? Not to mention that she was calling Iggy, of all people, and telling him what was going on. He’s my brother, too, and I get why he needed his nose in this shit for a minute, but I can’t trust him yet with this information. Eventually, he’s gonna crack or some shit, and Dad will soon find out. I can’t even imagine the look on his face when he hears the news.

Almost everyone was tucked in for bed, but a part of me didn’t want to sleep and think that things would just get better in the morning. So I pulled Ian out of his and his brothers’ room for a moment and got him to join me in the living room, with him making sure that no one heard the floor boards creak or some shit like that.

When we were situated on the living room couch, we just sat there for a few minutes, noticing how uneasy each other looked. I knew I was having problems, yeah, but I also knew that Ian knew that I wasn’t feeling too good. Shit, serves him right, too.

“Did you…” I started to sign, but then I got nervous enough to start biting on my thumb nail. Ian placed a hand on my knee, his own thumb caressing my cotton-covered limb. Then I started to sign again. “Did you hear what Mandy was saying on the phone today?”

“Just a little bit of it.” Ian confessed with a shrug.

I nodded, biting down on my bottom lip. “What did she say?”

Ian looked as if he shouldn’t be answering that question, and I understood him wholeheartedly. However, I hated seeing my baby sister going to bed every night with tears stained on her face, and that conversation between her and Iggy looked very serious. Unfortunately, Mandy never elaborated what they actually discussed, so I was mostly left in the dark.

After a couple more seconds, Ian looked back at me. He signed a little and also mouthed his words. “She asked if Iggy could send her some money to help with the abortion.” I nodded, understanding a little bit of the story, but I still wasn’t sure about what was going on back at the house with Iggy and my dad.

Ian scooted closer to my side of the couch, wrapping his arm around my lower back and rubbing there for support. Normally I would accept and appreciate Ian for making me feel better and all that shit, but what was going on outside of this house was my main concern, and not one backrub would assure me of that much. Still, Ian was here, so it was better than no support at all.

“Fiona has everything taken care of,” Ian signed to me. “We’re just waiting for when he gets turned into the police. Once he’s put away, you two won’t have to worry about him any longer.”

“I’m just worried that Iggy might rat on us.”

“Blood brothers wouldn’t do that to one of their own, would they?” I didn’t respond this time, because I knew Ian had a point there. “Situations like that have happened with me and Lip before, but when our lives are possibly at risk, we wouldn’t betray the other like that, the same way you wouldn’t let Mandy go on her own with a baby in her stomach.”

He didn’t have to fucking remind me. That damn rape baby is all I need to think about before cutting a chainsaw through Dad’s chest.

I felt Ian’s hand on my chin, and our eyes were gazing back into each other’s once again. Ian didn’t say anything else; he just leaned forward and gave me a long, soft kiss. While I was still wrapping my head around the whole Mandy and Iggy situation, I at least felt a tad bit calmer when Ian dragged me out of my own head space.

For the next few minutes that night, we just kissed each other like there was nothing else to do, getting absorbed into each other before heading to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would be a perfect time to update this story since Thanksgiving is coming up and that it'll be a lot busier around here (not really; just stuffing my face with some good mac 'n cheese and sweet potato pie). I hope everyone has a good holiday. I am thankful for being a part of some many awesome fandoms, specifically this one, because I have a lot of people all over the internet whom I can relate to and that bring me so much joy. You guys rock.


	29. One Way or Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Surviving is important to the Milkoviches. We’re fucking all or nothing here. If one of us falls, then shit, everyone might as well fall with them."

Days past since the phone call with Iggy, and I haven’t heard from him since. I only hoped that he would have the money piled up somewhere safe so I can meet with him and retrieve it, but the more I thought about it, the more I’m thinking that Iggy’s not down with the plan at all.

Fortunately, my boss at Chewy Chambers thought I was doing a pretty decent job with tables and clean-up. I never slacked off since I got that job, and I don’t plan to anytime soon. I needed this job. I needed this and school and the money so not only the baby would be gone and the window in the Gallagher house could be fixed, but also so Mickey and I were guaranteed to be safe. If my brother’s self esteem and communication skills weren’t so low, maybe he could work with me, or even while I’m in school. That would likely give us double of what I’m earning per day.

Speaking of Mickey, him and Ian have been getting closer and closer every day. I don’t necessarily know what Ian does that keeps Mickey signing and smiling every day, but at least one other problem related to our survival is taken off our backs.

Not only that, but Ian’s also been bringing him up a lot at lunch lately. Sometimes it’ll only be for a brief couple of seconds, and others, it will be for almost a third of the entire period. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that they’re both crushing hard on each other.

Mickey never once told me about what his sexual orientation was, yet I can see him blushing occasionally from the corner of my eye. That kind of stuff wouldn’t be tolerated if Ian were at our place; Dad would most likely take the nearest heavy object and hit him in the head with it. Hell, he’d probably kill Mickey, too, which is the one thing I’m trying to prevent.

At one point, I thought I heard someone moaning or whatever coming from downstairs, and I went to get some water from the kitchen only to investigate the source. However, when I made it there, no one was in sight. I often never saw Mickey go to sleep in the guest room Fiona let us sleep in anymore, though I do see him in the morning, passed out as usual.

I set my suspicions aside when Ian, Debbie, Mickey, and Carl all came downstairs for breakfast one morning, returning back to the math problems that will never get finished. Question twelve was almost done – I didn’t really give a shit about whether it was right or not – when I felt someone’s presence next to me.

“Didn’t finish, either?” Ian asked with a smirk on his face.

“You would think that the teacher would give us some slack, for once.”

I turned back to the questions and began working on the next available one. Barely a minute passed before Mickey snatched my work away, taking a seat in the chair to my left. My eyes shot to him and I signed, “Asshole, I’m fucking working here.”

Mickey’s eyebrow inched on his forehead, and he signed back. “Not hard enough.” That’s when he looked over each of the problems and started making random marks on the paper before handing it back to me. Right next to numbers two, three, five, seven, and ten were all X’s; and numbers four and six had one-half written next to their respective problems.

Ian looked on with me as he checked all of Mickey’s marks before glanced over at my brother with a grin. “I didn’t know you were Einstein.” He spoke and signed for him.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “You signed Einstein wrong, genius.” He responded with sarcasm in his facial expressions. Ian frowned a bit in confusion, which made me giggle under my breath. Fucking dorks.

“Well, if you’re such a braniac,” I signed to Mickey, “then tell me what the fucking answer to the problems are.”

Mickey frowned at me and signed, “You’re working for that shit.” And before I could say anything else, he stood up and went to retrieve his breakfast from Fiona, leaving me and Ian to watch him in disbelief. I turned back to my assignment, rolling my eyes and erasing my work for the incorrect problems. “Fucking hate math,” I mumbled underneath my breath.

“You’re telling me,” Ian responded, leaning his cheek against his fist as he watched me redo some of the math questions. A beat later, Ian spoke up again. “Lip knows some of this stuff. He even helped me with it a while ago.”

“You think he’d be willing to help?”

“I wish,” Lip spoke as he ran down the stairs, making his way to the counter to grab a piece of toast off of Debbie’s plate, “but I have an early morning study group for this shitty paper we have to do.” He broke off a piece of the toast before putting the rest back on Debbie’s plate, making her scrunch up her face in annoyance. “The Chicago Outfit can’t resurrect themselves and write the paper for me, though I kinda wished they did.”

A couple of moments later, Lip was out the door with his backpack and a water bottle, filled to the brim. The numbers written all over my homework were giving me a headache, so I started running my hands over my face. If I could do a magic trick that could get rid of homework altogether, I probably wouldn’t be growing grey hairs under my bangs.

I felt a slap against my left arm, and when I looked up, Mickey was standing next to me again. When I removed my arm, he grabbed the paper from in front of me, sitting down in the same seat next to me with his plate of food. He started working on the first incorrect question as Debbie and Carl came to the table. Fiona eventually made it over with Liam as soon as Mickey was finished.

“Jesus, Mick.” Ian mumbled under his breath as he noticed the corrections Mickey made on the paper.

I glared at Mickey and signed, “you sure this is right?” And he nodded.

Mickey never even went to public school before, yet he does math problems ten times better than me. Normally he’s not the kind of guy that’s interested in doing something that someone tells them to, but he does read the textbooks and stuff that I bring home from school. I guess this was Mickey’s personal way of saying he’s not a complete fucktard who doesn’t want an education because, if we’re being honest here, with the lack of an academic track, Mickey doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere other than maybe a fast food kitchen or some shit like that.

My older brother is definitely smarter than he looks.

“You gonna help me with the rest?” I signed to him. He rolled his eyes at me. “Come on, Mick. This is due in a few hours.”

“Which is literally no one’s business but yours.”

He did have a point.

A moment later, Mickey signed again. “Some of it is the same shit that I just wrote down for you. Just copy that, but use different numbers. Why do you have to make it so fucking complicated?”

Taking that as a no, I looked down at my homework, got a clearer idea of what Mickey wrote down, and started doing that for problems three and five. Once I was done, I looked up to ask Mickey if my answers were right when I spotted Mickey with his eyes focused on something over my shoulder and his spoon in his mouth, a smirk forming around it. I slapped him on the back of his head and muttered, “Fuckin’ gross.” He made a move to slap me back, but luckily I grabbed his wrists in time before he did anything.

“Alright, Milkoviches.” I heard Fiona say across the table. “We stay civilized at the breakfast table.” She reminded us.

I finally let go of Mickey’s wrists and put my homework in a stack so I could retrieve my breakfast. Before I got a chance to make it to the table, I felt Mickey’s foot against my ankle and almost tripped. Had I landed face first into the tiled floor, and I would have punched him deep in the throat.

“Ass face, she said be civilized.” I scorned him before I grabbed my plate. When I returned to my seat, I saw Ian hiding a smile behind his hand as he chewed on his waffle piece. Mickey looked down at his food and picked some up, also hiding a prominent smile and sporting the most obvious blush ever.

Something is definitely going on.

* * *

“Yo Mands.” Iggy greeted me as he arrived at Chewy Chambers after school today.

To be fairly honest, I was anticipating this meeting pretty much the entire day. Once my math homework was completed that morning, I was at least relieved that something was taken off my chest. But then, I remembered that I still had to meet with Iggy eventually to talk about the money issue. To this day, I still wonder whether or not Dad found out that he was doing this. I don’t want to expect for him to find me and Mickey and beat us until we bleed to death, but it’s very hard not to.

“I got the money, just like you wanted.” Iggy told me, handing me a black, tied-up plastic bag. “I would have had it sooner, but Pops was acting shady and shit since the po-po is after him.”

I nodded before I looked down and untied the bag. A whole wad of cash stuck out from inside that bag – around a thousand dollars, to be precise.

“Where the hell did you get all of this?”

“Half of it was from Dad’s dresser, and some of it came from a drug run Jamie and I did. He almost had to pay the price for it since, you know, the neighborhood we last hit was very strict on surveillance and shit, but…”

I don’t usually take part in any of the Milkovich drug runs like my dad and my brothers do, but when my brothers take part in it for situations like this, it makes me feel a lot closer to them than I have felt before. Jamie could have gotten fucking arrested back there – and I secretly hoped he didn’t, or at least won’t – but he was doing this shit for me. Everyone was – Fiona, Ian, Mickey, Iggy, Jamie. Shit, even Debbie was offering her help, and she was only a fucking middle schooler who’s still trying to figure everything out.

I tied the bag back up before casting my eyes on my older brother. “Did Dad say anything?”

Iggy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Like, did he catch you taking it? Did he ask about me and Mick?”

He shook his head. “He was passed out from some good coke he got from one of his dealers, and he didn’t mention either one of you all morning. That don’t mean he stops forever, though.” Sadly, that was all too true.

I wanted Dad to stop asking. I wanted him to forget that we existed so Mickey and I could stay with the people who don’t forget. Maybe we can’t really live in the Gallagher house for good, but we would be better off here than back at the house with Dad. How DCFS or even the cops didn’t catch him by now, I wasn’t even sure. They were bound to get their hands on the stash of drugs and guns by now and eventually put the fucker away. I would wanna live to see the day that happens.

At the same time, though, there would be the possibility that Mickey and I would be split up from each other since we’re under the age of 21, and I would do anything to keep them from splitting me away from my brother.

“If he ever mentions us…” I started, feeling tears trying to escape my eyes, “can you please promise me that you won’t tell him about this? I’m literally begging you hear, Igg. You’re all we have left –“

“Mandy.” He spoke to me in a soft voice, putting his hands on my shoulders. “He won’t get a word out of me. Promise.”

I released a breath of air before looking up at him with sad eyes, embracing him in a tight hug. My brothers and I never did the hugging thing too much, but it’s good to know that some of us still give a shit about each other that much to share that much appreciation. Surviving is important to the Milkoviches. We’re fucking all or nothing here. If one of us falls, then shit, everyone might as well fall with them.

“You do know you owe me for this, though, right?”

I rolled my eyes and released him. “I’m not going to your shitty dealers, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Iggy shook his head. “Free apple pie.”

That was going to be a little bit risky, being that the boss knows how well of a job I’m doing here and that I never really did that sneaky shit since I worked here. However, a deal was a deal, and we were both still Milkoviches. What would a little slice of pie do to anyone? “Deal.”

And we both entered the restaurant, Iggy seating himself at the bar and holding my plastic bag for me while I started serving some of my customers.

* * *

Fiona was out late, trying to earn more money for the broken window, and Lip was out with his girlfriend, so Mickey and I were left watching the kids until they returned. Carl and Liam got bored, so I took the liberty in popping in an Avengers movie for them to watch. Mickey eventually got bored as well, so I turned the subtitles on so he could watch with us.

However, Mickey suggested otherwise with a inch of his eyebrow and an index finger pointing to the ceiling. I couldn’t have obliged quicker enough.

When Mickey and I walked up the stairs, Debbie was already in her room, looking up some random, informational site for a homework assignment. That alone made us certain that we were going to be alone for the evening.

We both made it into my bedroom. I closed the door and locked it for good measure, hoping neither Carl, Debbie, nor Liam would knock and catch us in the act. When I turned back to Mickey, he was already walking over to me, biting down on his bottom lip and looking at my chest. I smiled back and filled the distance between us, putting my lips on his.

This was always a routine thing now. We would make time to separate ourselves from everyone else to either hang out or just kiss – that definitely has the potential to lead to something more, usually. Mickey would pull me as close as he can, and I would grab every bit of skin of his I can reach. He liked to pull my hair a lot, which hurts on most occasions, but I didn’t mind it that much. I actually like how possessive Mickey is. As painful as hair-pulling really was, he enjoyed getting every bit of me he could under his tattooed fingers.

My right hand slid down from Mickey’s waist down to the small of his back, ghosting a couple of fingers through the waistband of his pants so I could graze above his ass. Mickey got really hot and heavy whenever I would do that – so hot and heavy that his moans would get a percentage louder.

I released my lips from his, a whine escaping Mickey’s lips, and held an index finger in front of my lips for him to keep quiet. Debbie was still across the hall, and Liam and Carl were still downstairs, so there was no telling what one of them could do when we were groping each other like this.

Mickey seemed to understand, so he just nodded. Not even a second later, he grabbed the back of my neck and started kissing me again. I brought my left leg in between Mickey’s legs to rub against his growing erection. Mickey was extremely hard, and that alone turned up the heat, ultimately causing sweat to trick from the roots of my hair to my forehead.

I let go again to remove my shirt and my pants. Mickey admired the view as he did the same.

I’m usually very self-aware when it comes to my body. That’s why I run in the mornings on the weekends. Sometimes I would do it before school starts, but waking up that early just to go to school and let the weakness swim all over me wasn’t going to help, especially since most of my teachers usually keep an eye-out for me. Ever since I started ROTC, I’ve always wanted to stay fit and get as much exercise as I could. It definitely helped my arm and chest muscles; now I feel two times stronger than I did years ago.

And, according to Mickey, I was apparently two times sexier.

When everything excluding my boxers and my socks were removed, I looked ahead at Mickey, who was already sitting on the bed. His boxers were still on as well, but I could already tell that he was a little impatient, for his fingers were latched onto the waistband of his boxers, ready to yank them off and expose his naked body.

Which I definitely wouldn’t mind seeing right now, because Mickey was a sight to die for.

I walked on over to Mickey, straddling his hips and kissing him hard once again. Cotton rubbed against cotton, and I was itching just to get those last layers of clothing off so our bodies would completely feel one another. My lips left Mickey’s in favor of kissing his cheek, his jawline, his neck, and his shoulders. I could hear Mickey’s breathless moans as I went lower and lower on his body. He really liked it when I got him hot like that.

Eventually, my lips got down to Mickey’s groin. My kisses got a little slower once I reached that point, and I couldn’t contain my smile as I felt Mickey’s hand shove my head down so my lips could meet his dick. But I had other plans, though, and Mickey was just going to have to cooperate.

Which was definitely not happening, either.

I took both of his legs and flipped him over until he was laying on his stomach. I climbed back up the length of his body, kissing him on the back of his neck and on his shoulder blades. Mickey continued to moan softly, his voice being muffled against the bed sheets. Muffled or not, though, Mickey had a wonderful voice. I really wish he was able to speak, but I understand his reason for choosing not to.

My hand was about to grab Mickey’s ass as tightly as it could when I heard Fiona’s voice call from downstairs. “Ian!”

When Mickey realized I had stopped touching him, he turned his head towards me with a confused frown on his face. I looked back to him and signed, “Sorry. Fiona needs me.”

I quickly got up and dressed myself back up, and Mickey reluctantly rolled off the bed and decided to do so as well. Once I had everything on, I turned to Mickey, placing my hands on his face and giving him one last, soft kiss. “We’ll get back to this. I promise.” I signed to him.

Mickey signed back. “We better.” I laughed because of how adorably grumpy he was suddenly getting.

I unlocked the bedroom door, and Mickey followed me downstairs. When we got into the living room, Carl and Liam were standing up, the TV long forgotten about, and Fiona was frantically pacing behind the couch as if she was going to put a hole into the ground.

“Fiona?” I tried calling her as calmly as possible, but she looked like she was going to rip all of her brunette hair off of her scalp. Her cell phone was to her ear, waiting for an answer from someone on the other line. When she didn’t get a response, she threw the phone on the couch and covered her entire face with her hands, aggravated and ready to blow.

I walked over to her, placing a hand on Fiona’s back. “Fiona, what happened?” I asked her.

She looked at me with a tired, upset look on her face. Her eyes looked like they were getting redder. “Have you seen Mandy at all after school today?”

I frowned at her with much bewilderment. “I walked with her to the restaurant before I went home, but after that, I never saw her.” I answered honestly. I gazed at Fiona again, watching as her hair pushed back her brunette strands. “Why? What happened?”

“I went to pick her up after I left work, and the manager told me that someone with the last name Gallagher swung by to do it for me,” Fiona responded, evident anger in her voice.

Was this really happening? Was Mandy really gone? But she can’t leave; she enjoyed working there. She told me herself. And why would she leave with someone that wasn’t me or Fiona?

Unless Lip came along, but he had to be with his girlfriend by now.

“I tried texting her, calling her, five times since I found out,” Fiona explained, gesturing towards the cell phone on the couch. “She never picked up or answered, and I’m getting really worried.”

“You think she went back to her house?” I asked her.

“I even checked _there_ , Ian,” Fiona answered hopelessly, “but all of the lights were turned off. It looked like a fucking monster house back there.” She sunk down to the ground, clutching onto her legs and leaning her forehead against her knees, attempting to calm down but feeling herself falling between the cracks.

I kneeled down next to her, keeping a hand on her arm. “We’re going to find her, Fiona. We have to. She couldn’t have gone far, right?”

I really hope I was right, too. It’s a little past eight o’clock. Where could Mandy go at this time of night? Better yet, who could she have gone with? Why would the person who took her use our last name? That didn’t make any fucking sense.

Fiona kept her head down for the next two minutes before drawing her eyes towards me. They looked really moist, and I could already tell how stressed she really was. Between the squirrel fund, feeding and taking care of us, working at Patsy’s, and providing a safe space for Mandy and Mickey, Fiona has her hands full. She can’t do it all by herself; that’s why she needs me and the rest of the family to help her. After all, she’s always doing a lot for us. Someone needs to be there for her when she’s slipped and fell on the ground.

Her hand rested on my shoulder, gripping it tightly as she said, “You’re right.” She nodded at me for a moment before composing herself and standing back up in her spot. She went upstairs to tell Debbie to watch Carl and Liam while she went next door to speak with Kev and Vee.

Once she was gone, I spotted Mickey from the corner of my eye. He looked like a deer in headlights. He had no idea what was going on, but he couldn’t have missed the tears falling down Fiona’s face or her nails practically clawing away her hair.

Mickey signed to me, “The hell’s going on?”

I just looked back at him with my hands in my pockets. How do you tell a deaf teenage boy that his younger sister had left her work to go with someone without the neighbors knowing where she went or how she managed to leave without some kind of signal? I’ve been reminded so many times that Mandy is Mickey’s baby sister and that he would do anything so she won’t get hurt. I can’t even imagine his reaction to all of this.

“Ian?” he signed to me again. I didn’t have any other way to do this; he was bound to figure it out sooner or later.

“Mandy’s missing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a paper to turn in in nine days from now, and finals week is next week as well, so I might be delaying some of my stories a bit. But I wanted to publish this so I won't keep people waiting. Also, I added in the math homework scene because I'm one of those people in the fandom who recognizes smart Mickey (unlike the writers, apparently) and one favorite head canon in the fandom, from what I've seen at least, is how good Mickey is in math (I mean, I am, too, but I screw up sometimes; pray for me on Wednesday Dx).


	30. Gone Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He seemed very hesitant, scared even. I could faintly see him thinking about whatever the fucker was doing to Mandy right now. I trust that she’s a smart girl, so hopefully she won’t let whoever it was get to her. However, her older brother really loved and worried for her. She couldn’t get hurt. That would break Mickey so bad."

Business was going smoothly at Chewy Chambers – maybe a little busier than the previous day, but that meant I got to work just as hard and have something to look back to and be proud of. This one nice family came in, and I served their table as usual. By the time they left, they left behind a large tip – roughly around eight to ten bucks. Tips were less than that, so I’m assuming that this family was rich or some shit like that. Too bad they were out the building before I had the chance to truly thank them for their donation. They had to know how much I appreciated this.

One of the other waitresses, Heidi, was cleaning the top of another table when she saw me put the money in my apron. “Those folks seemed to like you,” she told me with a smile on her face.

Everyone here was so nice to me, although I didn’t expect them to be when I first came here. I was still a fish out of water in this kind of environment, but it felt good to actually be working here. The salary didn’t even have to equate into it that much, though it definitely did help considering that I have a lot to give back for what Fiona and the Gallaghers provided for me.

Hours passed, and I was tired as hell. I didn’t get off work for another fifteen minutes, and there were still a lot of tables to clean up before my shift ended. I was on the eighth one of the night when I heard the front door open. Lucas was behind the register, counting up today’s earnings when I heard him speak to the unknown customer. “How may I help you?”

I slightly turned around from the corner of my eye so I won’t look as if I’m eavesdropping or any shit like that. The man had some dark scruff on his face and a leather, brown jacket on. He didn’t look familiar at all to me, yet he still managed to get my name out of his mouth. “I’m here to pick up Mandy,” he replied.

What the fuck? How did he know my name?

Lucas frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“Milkovich.” The man paused and pardoned himself. “I’m one of the Gallaghers; Fiona called and asked me to pick her up.”

He was lying. He was fucking lying. Fiona didn’t have a boyfriend – or at least not now – and Fiona said that I should be leaving work when she or Ian is around, yet neither one of them are here. This was a fucking set-up.

Lucas turned his head towards me, and I prayed to every God out there that he would turn the fuck away. “Um, Mandy?” he called to me, and that prompted the stranger to turn his own head, a grin secretly growing on his sick, fucking face. “Your ride’s here.”

I shook my head violently. “I don’t know him.”

Lucas frowned a little bit. “You sure?”

“Yes, I don’t fucking know who he is –“

The man made a move to walk towards me, and I tried everything and anything to avoid him. “She’s just getting the opportunity to put a face to the name, that’s all,” he told Lucas, his eyes still on me. Again, he was a fucking lying prick.

“Fiona never told me she had a boyfriend, and she damn well didn’t tell me anything about you.” I was getting scared, honestly. Somewhere in Chicago, Fiona was making her way here from work to pick me up, and I secretly hoped she called the police to get this fucking pervert out of my line of sight.

The man inched his eyebrows on his forehead. “Huh. I guess with all of those kids back at the house, working at that restaurant of hers, tending to two-thousand things at a time – she’s gotten a little side-tracked.” He chuckled, and my fists balled up, ready to punch him in the nose. “It’s fine. Her priorities are always first. I love that about an independent woman.”

My stomach started doing somersaults. He was disgusting. Even if Fiona did have a guy in her life that wasn’t her siblings, I’ll be damned if he talked to her like some kind of pedophile, much less even talk to someone like Debbie in private like that.

Fuck. I can’t even think about a scenario like that with Debbie, either.

Behind us, Lucas began to interject. “Sir, I don’t want any problems here –“

“Neither do I, sir.” The man responded as he grabbed a small gun from inside his jacket, aiming it at me but keeping it hidden so no one but I would see it. “In fact, Mandy and I were just leaving. We’ll iron things out back at home.”

This was seriously happening. I was seriously being kidnapped under Lucas’s watch, and no one here was defending me about it. The restaurant was almost empty, with the exception of a couple of people who were about to catch the late train out of the city and two people who looked like they’ve been out for twenty-four hours straight. I couldn’t scream or ask for help, unless I wanted some kind of death wish out of it. Running away certainly wouldn’t help this situation, either.

The one thing that scared me the most about this hostage situation is that I already know who’s behind it all.

My Dad.

“Come on, now.” The man spoke again, the gun still secretly aimed at me. “Get your stuff from the back room, and we can head out.”

I looked between him and Lucas, a lump forming in my throat and in my stomach at what was going on. I didn’t want to leave with him; I wanted Fiona to be here to pick me up. I wanted to go back to the Gallagher house with everyone else. I wanted to stupid fucking homework problems with Ian and roughhouse with Mickey like we always did as brother and sister. I wanted to do all of this normal stuff, but how is that possible when your family life doesn’t get any more normal than this?

Once I slowly started to move, the man hid his gun in his pocket, following me until he got to the bar, where he leaned against it while casually starting some conversation with Lucas about different brands of cars. I allowed the two to continue with their talk as I went to the back room to grab my backpack and cellphone. Once I had all of my belongings, I checked to see if Lucas was still keeping the man busy before I snuck to the back exit.

For a couple of seconds, I thought I was free, but that wasn’t until another strange man walked up to me from the shadows, holding a black gun in his right hand. He smiled at me and spoke. “You shouldn’t be out by your lonesome, Mandy. It’s pretty dangerous for teenage girls to be all alone at night.”

As I felt the tears forming in the back of my eyes, I already knew I was fucked.

* * *

“What the fuck did you say?”

Mickey was livid with me once I told him the news. Not in the _throwing chairs all across the room_ type of way, but more like the _I’m calm on the outside but I could easily stab a rabbit to death_ type of way. I knew it would eventually lead to something like this, if not a more exaggerated response. His little sister was gone somewhere, and no one had a clue of where she went. Mandy, other than probably Iggy, was all Mickey had left of his blood family – at least the blood family that gave two shits about his survival. Plus, Mandy was the only girl left from Mickey’s immediate family; he already lost his mother, and I can’t stand to imagine his face when he finds out that he’ll lose his sister, too.

He gave me a cold, hard stare for the past twenty to forty seconds, and I was getting worried for him and scared of him at the same time. I began signing to him again. “Mickey, Mandy is miss –“

“Don’t fucking give me that shit, Gallagher.” He signed back at me, his face as hard as it was when I first told him the news. “Mandy’s fine, right? She’s still at fucking work?”

I shook my head. “Fiona looked there already, Mick.”

“She didn’t look hard enough, did she?”

“Yes, she did.”

“Then where the fuck is my little sister then?”

“I don’t know.”

Mickey was difficult to work with when there was so much anxiety being built up in him within a short amount of time. Mandy was gone, I get that; I just didn’t want Mickey to start doing something stupid or out of control. Fiona was taking care of everything, like she said. One would think that Mickey fully trusted her by now.

“Mickey,” I spoke to him, being as gentle as I could. He was breathing a little heavily through his nostrils, and I could see his fists balling up and then releasing themselves. “Mandy will be back in no time. Fiona really is trying her best. Just give them a little more time.”

He seemed very hesitant, scared even. I could faintly see him thinking about whatever the fucker was doing to Mandy right now. I trust that she’s a smart girl, so hopefully she won’t let whoever it was get to her. However, her older brother really loved and worried for her. She couldn’t get hurt. That would break Mickey so bad.

I brought my hand up to Mickey’s shoulder. I wanted to grab his chin and get a better look at him, but Carl and Liam were still in the room and I didn’t want them to suspect anything. Luckily, Mickey grabbed the opportunity to look back at me as I predicted. He bit down on his bottom lip, the flesh getting a little redder as he did so. His shoulders were slumped in defeat and his Adam’s apple was throbbing. I don’t like seeing Mickey like this.

I turned around at the sound of Fiona’s footsteps. Debbie came out of her room and followed her down, agreeing to help watch Carl and Liam while Fiona left. “I’m heading next door,” Fiona told all of us, her voice still a bit shaky from almost breaking down earlier. She brought her attention towards me. “Ian, make sure Mickey stays in the house.”

I nodded, ignoring the glances Mickey stole from me and Fiona.

Fiona gave Mickey a small look, one mixed with deep concern, sadness, and apprehension all in one. She looked like she wanted to say something to him, but she didn’t want Mickey to worry too much. Luckily for her, I’ve filled him in on everything; unfortunately, Mickey’s not feeling any less possessive or worried.

“You stay in the house, okay?” Fiona spoke, and I made an attempt to sign her words. Mickey was good at reading lips, though, so he just nodded. With that, Fiona was out the door.

Carl rounded the couch area and stopped in front of me. “Mandy left?” he asked, confused. He barely knew that much about Mickey and Mandy, which was sad considering that the Gallaghers were supposed to be the hosts and hostesses for them.

I really wanted to tell Carl the real truth on what happened, but aside from Fiona’s telling of the story, I don’t know the full story itself. Why would she leave with anyone other than Fiona in the first place, knowing that her father was still on the loose? Did her father find out about her current job and wanted to take advantage of her of something?

“She would have told us where she went if she left on her own.” I told Carl, slumping my shoulders in defeat.

Carl started putting two and two together for a couple of seconds and then looked back up at me. “So you’re saying she was kidnapped?”

My eyes from Carl’s to Mickey’s, the latter folding his arms and biting his bottom lip every ten seconds. “Yeah,” I finally stated, turning back to Carl. Being that he doesn’t have much of a connection with neither Mickey nor Mandy, he doesn’t look too affected by it; however, there was still a hint of anguish in my younger brother’s features.

Mickey sighed, feeling automatically upset and frustrated, walking away from me and Carl to head into the kitchen.

“Is Mickey okay?” Carl asked, which took me aback for a moment.

I nodded. “They’re kinda close,” I replied. That was all I could really say about Mickey and Mandy’s relationship. They weren’t like identical twins that were willing to do and enjoy the exact same things, but it’s not like they were like distant cousins, either.

Especially with Mandy being pregnant with their father’s rape baby, Mickey has been more defensive. Sometimes when he’s that mad, he would distance himself from everyone, excluding the times when I would get him to write in our journal. He would threaten his father, lock himself in the bathroom, hide under the covers in the bed, or even head to the fridge like he just did moments ago and grab a beer, drinking some of the pain away.

For me to tell Carl that Mickey was actually okay seemed to be more of a lie the more I thought about it.

“You think their dad took her?” Carl asked, still looking for more answers to the whole story. I really hoped that wasn’t true, but from the look of things, it doesn’t seem likely.

I turned my head towards the kitchen, watching Mickey sit at the table, nursing his drink and running his fingers through his dark hair. Terry Milkovich was a complete monster – so much that both Mickey and Mandy were overstressed with trying to protect themselves against him. The Milkovich siblings have to run all the time, collecting money and feeding themselves for as long as possible while their father went on a rampage. They were only teenagers; they shouldn’t have to run all the time.

I gulped as I turned my head back to Carl. “I really hope not.”

* * *

There was too much tension in the car right now. I felt like I didn’t belong here. This was like some kind of fucked up mob scene in one of those stupid fucking action movies.

The two men from earlier sat on either side of me in the back seat, trapping me so I won’t literally escape into the darkness. Dad was in the driver’s seat, smoking a cigarette and looking straight ahead, and Iggy was sitting beside him, his shoulders slumped in some sort of guilt.

“Daddy’s little girl got a little job, eh?” my father’s voice broke the long silence, puffing out a cloud of smoke. His voice had fake interest and enthusiasm in it, which I didn’t understand considering that he always used me as some kind of useless housewife with no job or life skills sans cooking and cleaning.

I didn’t say anything. I burned holes in the back of Iggy’s head. He told Dad everything. He told him about me and Mickey living with the Gallaghers. He told him about the day that Dad got drunk and raped me to the point where I’m carrying an unwanted baby. He told Dad about the job Fiona helped me get so I could raise money for the abortion and the broken window. He told him the location, hours – fucking everything. Iggy said he promised not to tell anyone what happened, and now look where I am.

Dad turned around in his seat and got a better look at the frown on my face. “The fuck you pissin’ off for?” he asked. “You got the dream you always wanted, right?”

What fucking dream? This wasn’t a dream; this was a nightmare. He should really try to walk a day in my shoes, feeling a tiny fetus growing inside his uterus and having to walk on his hind legs to get by in this fucked-up world.

Dad scoffed and turned back around, placing his cigarette in the ashtray beside him. “This shithole ain’t helping you,” he muttered out. “Fuckin’ putting food on people’s plates, washing counters, sweeping and moppin’ floors – you do that shit at home already. Same shit, just with pay.”

My anger was quickly picking up, as much as I tried my best to hide it.

“Damn kids these days always wanna make it big,” he continued, laying back in his seat. He chuckled. “You think you gonna make it out the South Side with that kind of fuckin’ attitude – and this, this fuckin’ waste-of-time ass job?”

“It’s better than staying at home.” I answered quietly in disbelief that I actually said that.

Both Dad and Iggy turned their heads towards me, Dad’s face filled with confusion and Iggy’s with fear. I have no idea why he’s even scared for me. I’m the one who should be scared; after all, I was the one caught at gunpoint in a dark ass alleyway with one of Dad’s minions.

“You got everything at home. A bedroom, fuckin’ heat, water – I bet none of those rascal Gallaghers can keep that shit for more than a week.”

“They actually care about me. You don’t care about jack shit but money, drugs, and beer.” My retaliation was going to have consequences, but I really didn’t give a shit. Dad needed a piece of my mind, and I was here to give it to him.

Out of nowhere, Dad’s hand swung until the palm met my cheek, leaving a very painful sting. I slowly brought a hand up to it, caressing it as gently as I could. I kind of deserved it for getting mad at him, but it was worth it.

“You think just because you’re cleanin’ up after South Side slobs for cash, you get to talk back to your old man?” Dad growled in anger. “I’m not afraid to fuckin’ beat the shit outta you, you little –“

“Do it.” I responded firmly, not even waiting a second for his reaction. “Beat me. Kill me and this fucking spawn so we can both end up in a better place, but the cops will still be after you either way. It’s not like anyone give a rat’s ass.”

Dad was dangerously quiet for a moment. He looked very stunned and angry at what I said.

Iggy didn’t tell him about the baby after all.

“You fuckin’ pregnant?”

“And it’s fucking yours!” I yelled at him, violently shaking. “Since you didn’t want to control your alcohol level and your fucking hormones, go ahead and plop a living fetus inside of my –“

Another slap across the face. I stayed quiet after that. There was no point in trying to remind Dad of his previous actions; all he’ll do to argue against them was to physically abuse someone. So typical.

The silence stretched out for longer than it should have. Iggy looked back at me, just as shocked about the pregnancy news as Dad was, except he didn’t violently attack me for it. Now I was the one feeling guilty, because Iggy really did keep his promise. I guess Dad kind of forced it out of him – or maybe even threatened him.

Moments later, Dad had the cigarette back in his mouth. “Call your brother and tell him to meet you outside,” he muttered around the cigarette.

I frowned at him. “What?”

He rolled his eyes. “What, are you fuckin’ retarded like your good-for-nothin’ brother, too? I said fuckin’ call him and tell him to meet you outside.” At that moment, he started the car and drove onto the road.

When I didn’t make a move to grab my phone, the guy on my left – the same one that found me in the alley – held his gun up to my temple, keeping his arm still and the open end of the gun firm against my head. The metal from it fucking hurt, but I wasn’t going to be a pussy about it and cry. Not just yet.

“Ey, not now, Horris.” Dad muttered to the man, looking in the mirror above him, and the Horris guy lowered his arm, placing the gun back in his jacket pocket. Dad’s eyes were staring into my soul. “I ain’t gonna tell you again, Mandy.”

He meant it. He really meant it. He was actually going to fucking kill me, probably, and he might go for Mickey, too. If he wasn’t gonna kill us now, then he would hold us hostage in the house until the cops gave up on their pursuit on his arrest, which would be a very long fucking time since Fiona and the Gallaghers were up on their toes doing all of the contacting of officials they could.

I wanted to see my brother again. It’s been hours since I last saw Mickey, and I can’t imagine his face after finding out what happened. He needs me, and I need him. It sounded so wrong, too, for Mickey to get sucked into my shit. But we’re blood. If he got his hand drilled against a tree for whatever reason, I would be there to get the damn thing out. I just hope he still thinks the same way about me.

After seconds of pondering – and seconds of the men on either side of me glaring at me like I’m fresh meat – I pulled my phone out of my backpack and typed out a quick text message before sending it: _Mick, open the door for me. I’m outside_.

* * *

Mandy still wasn’t home yet, and I’m still freaking the fuck out. Dad was probably getting her raped again or some shit like that, as if the first time wasn’t enough. Or maybe he was yelling and beating her again. Maybe he tried to kill her. I mean, a part of it wouldn’t be a surprise considering that Mama technically died because of his words and actions, but my sister’s all I have left. What the hell could she possibly be doing?

I couldn’t even focus on anything else in the house. Liam tried to get me to play with him a couple of times, but I didn’t respond. Debbie actually came in and told him to come in the living room so he could let me cool down, which was nice of her. Ian came in multiple times, asking me if I wanted to eat or play a game with him and Carl in the living room. I didn’t answer then, either. Why the fuck would I wanna think about playing games when my sister is gone?

Fiona came back around nine or nine-thirty. Mandy wasn’t with her. Her friend from next door came by at some point. I had no idea what the hell she and Fiona were talking about; they did look like they were in some strategy mode or some shit. About half of the Gallaghers were getting ready to go to sleep when the neighbor’s husband came to the house. Still no Mandy.

I long ran out of beer at the point. I wanted to stay up and see if anyone would have any news on where Mandy was, but everyone came up empty-handed. Fiona came over to me eventually, placing both of her hands on my shoulders. When I looked up at her, I noticed the sad look on her face. Some of the words I couldn’t understand right away, but I knew this was her way of comforting me.

Until Mandy’s back in the house, bitchin’ about some old prick sliding her a twenty dollar bill at her work, I’m not gonna be okay.

Fiona patted me on the back a couple of times, pointing to her wrist and then up the stairs. It was getting pretty late, and I was really fucking tired, but that didn’t take away the worries I had about my sister being out at this time of night.

Once Fiona was gone, I was basically the only one downstairs. The neighbors left moments ago, and everyone else was upstairs and getting ready for bed. I figured that I should go ahead and get to bed myself before that insomnia shit started to mess up my sleep schedule.

Before I made it to the stairs, I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket. When I pulled it out, I stared at the screen for a good twenty seconds, eyeing Mandy’s text message: _Mick, open the door for me. I’m outside_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably continue Mickey's POV in the next chapter. I'm so glad I'm on break; there is so much for me to write. :)


	31. Finders Keep the Kids, Losers Take the Bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This was how scared Mickey Milkovich was. This was how scared I, Mandy Milkovich, was. Just because we had a strict father with no redeeming qualities about himself doesn’t mean that his kids are the same way. I, for one, don’t want anything to do with Terry Milkovich. Unfortunately, due to some fucked-up fate, I ended up being his daughter, and Mickey ended up being his now-deaf son."

_Mick, open the door for me. I’m outside_.

No way is she fucking serious, right? She’s not just fucking joking around or some shit, right? She’s not just gone for hours after her shift and sending a text message like everything is fucking fine, right?

A part of me should be fucking mad at her because I’m literally ripping the hair off my scalp just thinking about whatever fuckhead was out there, trying to mess with her in any way possible. She’s already been pushed and beaten around, and eventually raped, by our own father, and she thinks it’s safe to be lurking in the shadows with some other fucker at this time of night?

In retrospect, though, it wasn’t her fault nor her idea to leave anyway – at least, I’m somewhat sure it wasn’t. She’s my little sister, although she’s very well aware that she isn’t safe in this neighborhood, not with Dad hiding out with a frozen TV dinner and a dry and deathly belt in his hands. She’ll kill you with a look in the eye, but she still needs some guidance, some assurance that things might be okay around here.

Maybe that’s why she’s messaging me now. I really hope that’s why.

I turned my head facing the window in the living room and started to head over there. When I looked out the window, though, no one was there. The whole block was asleep, with just a couple of light beams coming from one or two lamps and a television set in someone’s bedroom. I even checked the front door just in cast someone was standing by it. No one was there.

Walking back into the kitchen, I checked the still-broken window. At first I didn’t see anything since it was so dark, but then I made out Mandy’s small frame standing by the back door, hugging herself and allowing more tears to fall down her face. I didn’t waste any time rushing to the back door and opening it, inviting my sister inside with a really tight hug.

Mandy was trembling violently. Flashbacks to that one early morning when I found her on her bed with Dad lying naked right next to her were everywhere. All of Mandy’s clothes were intact, so it doesn’t look like anymore physical damage had been done, but she still looks traumatized, like she saw a ghost or maybe something gorier like a demon with its jaw ripped off. Mandy hated those scary movies as a little girl, but it’s not like Dad made much of an effort to not scar his daughter’s life anyway.

More of Mandy’s tears fell on my shoulder, and that’s when I started to release her and get a good look at her face. The eye makeup she had on started to smear a little bit, and her eyes were really red. They were fucking bloodshot. It only made me angrier thinking about whoever this was and what she did to my sister.

She looked at me with a worried look on her face and signed, “close the door.” When I frowned in her direction, she frantically signed again. “Close the door, Mickey. Come on.”

I didn’t question her on it; I just followed her back to the door to close it shut. It wasn’t until then that I felt a very hard push on the other side that Mandy was suddenly panicking.

That fucker that took Mandy is outside the house.

My whole left side of my body shoved into the door, trying as hard as I could to get it closed so the guy wouldn’t touch her. I applied more strength as Mandy latched the door to the hook on the wall and locked the door completely with the handle lock. I took a deep breath in relief but only for a second as I saw who it was climb through the broken window, holding a gun at the both of us.

Surprisingly enough, I knew who it was, too. He was the same guy who attacked me the last time and broke the Gallaghers’ window in the first place. He was coming back for more.

I started to back away from him, but the open end of the gun was suddenly aimed in my direction. Mandy grabbed at my arm and held me close, and I did the same. He can shoot me all he wanted to, but he had better leave my sister alone.

For Mandy, it was the other way around. To this day, I’m not sure if she thinks that way because I’m deaf or the fact that Dad’s always been putting me down all these years, maybe more than her – maybe even both. She’s always been looking out for me when no one else was – teaching me different stuff she learned at school, as much as I hated school; interpreting stuff for me; trying to get me to interact with other people. She does a lot for a little sister, and it’s very fucking bittersweet, if you ask me.

The man in front of us was saying something, but I couldn’t hear it nor understand it since Mandy’s fingers were clutching onto my side and that she couldn’t sign them for me. I didn’t need her to, though; I don’t wanna know what this guy is saying.

He reopened the door, revealing a bigger man on the other side, pulling out a black gun and aiming it towards Mandy. She continued to tremble in my arms, and I kept holding her, running my hands through her equally dark hair and trying to calm her down. It was no use, though, because the two men started to grab us and drag us out the door. Where we were headed, I wasn’t exactly sure; I just know Dad’s involved.

The slimmer guy was gripping tightly onto Mandy’s arm while the other guy was holding onto me, and once we were all out of the house, the back door was closed. I struggled a bit in this dude’s grasp because his fucking hands were so goddamn strong for no reason. He only dragged me forward, getting to walk down the steps and onto the concrete.

We were just rounding the corner of the house when I saw light on the backyard grass coming from the back door of the house. I turned my head and saw Fiona standing there. She had a very distressed look on her face, which ultimately made me feel guilty for some reason. Ian was right; Fiona was doing a lot to help us, yet she’s over there looking helpless and scared.

Mandy looked like she was trying to scream in Fiona’s direction, and I made a move to run back over to the steps where Fiona was, but the big motherfucker dragged me back with his gigantic ass hand, the gun digging deep into my temple. I turned my head and, all of a sudden, the other guy was shooting a bullet in Fiona’s direction.

He wouldn’t hurt Fiona. He couldn’t. He couldn’t actually fucking shoot her and get away with it, right?

When I glanced back over at the back door, though, there were no signs of blood or a dead body. Fiona was safe. Fiona’s fucking safe, alive even. I don’t think I would wanna see the rest of the Gallaghers’ broken faces if otherwise.

That is, if I even get to see the other Gallaghers again.

The two men continued pulling on us and dragging us over to Dad’s car, which was parked near the curb by the sidewalk. I guess either Fiona or maybe Ian or Lip were calling the cops or something – unless one of the neighbors were awake and trying to do the same thing – and the men wanted to get out of here before they pulled up.

I wanted them to come. Arrest my Dad and these pieces of shits. I’m up for a show this late at night.

Mandy and I were shoved into the back seat, the big fucker sitting on my right and Mandy on my left. The other guy sat in the front seat, and before Mandy and I knew it, the car was speeding down the street. The Gallagher house was no longer in sight.

* * *

I ended up getting ready for bed a little earlier than I usually do. All of the homework and the Mandy situation was overwhelming me, to add on to the fact that one of my teachers decided to assign a quiz the next day. Lucky me.

Mickey was still downstairs somewhere, waiting to see whether or not Mandy would come through one of the doors. For hours, I had been thinking about how he was feeling. When I interpreted the news to him, he was in so much denial and so full of anger. I was afraid that the other stages of grief would come into play and that Mickey would start doing something out of control.

Liam and Lip were already asleep, and Carl was under the covers with a flashlight on, reading some magazine he found under Lip’s bed not too long ago. Liam was still a toddler and not too intelligent on what’s going on around him, so it’s no surprise that he’s able to rest so peacefully. And Carl’s always up and about, into some weird shit every other week.

Lip, though, isn’t like Carl or Liam. Well, he isn’t anymore. He’s older than me and younger than Fiona, though he can still find ways to not overstress himself. He must have a shit ton of stuff to do in college – all those damn papers he has to edit over and over again – on top of the fact that he has a girlfriend he usually sees every other day when he’s not trying to get a decent grade.

Sometimes I wonder how Lip does it, attempts to build his life to some point while finding the time to drop everything, even for a minute, to find his safe space lodged somewhere in his head. I can barely keep a B in a couple of my classes, and Mickey and Mandy have so many problems that I’m concerned about. There doesn’t seem to be a safe space in my own head space when these negative things are invading it.

All of this thinking made me feeling weaker. My eyes were slowly closing, allowing my brain to shut down and put me in a deep slumber. Unfortunately, the slumber wasn’t all that deep as I expected it to be, because my eyes suddenly opened back up at the sound of a female voice followed by the door shutting downstairs. At first I thought it was either Kev or Vee, but neither of their voices sounded like the one downstairs.

And that’s when I heard Fiona’s voice down the hall. “Mickey?”

I got up out of the bed at the sound of Mickey’s name come from Fiona’s mouth, getting a little suspicious. Carl lifted the covers off his head, craning his head at the sudden cry of Mickey’s name. Lip started stirring in his bed, sitting up and wiping his eye with the heel of his hand. He sleepily asked me, “what’s goin’ on?”

Truth be told, I had no idea, but I really hoped that it wasn’t what I thought it was.

I walked out of our room and into the hallway, looking around for any signs of trouble. The bathroom door was open and the light was on, so I assumed that Fiona was just getting ready for bed. And the guest room door was open as well, although the light was off. The bed was also made inside. Mickey never came upstairs to get ready for bed.

The door downstairs opened again, and after about three seconds, I heard Fiona shouting, “Hey! Let them go!”

 _Them?_ Mandy came back? She was here at the house? And who was taking her away? Mickey was with them? Did the intruder just come here to take Mickey with them to play their sick little game?

Lip was out of the bedroom within a flash, triggered by the sound of Fiona’s shouting. I glanced over at him, shock written all over my face. We were both still for a moment before we both heard gunshots from outside of the house.

They were either shooting at Mandy, Mickey, or Fiona.

Or maybe more than one person.

Lip and I bolted down the stairs, taking in the sight of Fiona sitting against the kitchen wall, her knees pulled up against her chest and staring ahead, tears welling up in her eyes. There were no bullet wounds in her, so she wasn’t injured, but the sight of the gun aimed at her and the sound of the bullet escaping the gun must have affected her, and not in a good way.

“Hey, hey,” I heard Lip say to her, falling to his knees and tending to Fiona’s current form. She was a disaster. Her entire body was shaking violently in Lip’s hold, and her bottom lip got redder the more she bit down on it.

I ran towards the front door, trying to pinpoint where the culprit or culprits had gone. Unfortunately, by the time I got there, a speeding car had pulled off and drove out of the neighborhood.

Mickey and Mandy were gone.

Angry didn’t even sum up how I was feeling. I didn’t think it was humanly possible for someone to commit such acts like kidnapping and attempted murder with onlookers probably watching the show from their windows while still getting away with it all, but it happened. Mickey and Mandy were already fighting for their lives before we took them in our care, and now they were in even more danger than ever thought possible.

My heart was sinking rapidly to the ground. They took Mickey and his sister along with them on their way to a hotter, more brutal hell. Even if Mickey and I were still building a relationship behind closed doors, he and Mandy still meant a lot to me, enough that I could practically hear myself scream their names in my head.

Though it was really tempting to scream them out loud.

“Fiona?” I heard Debbie’s voice behind me. When I turned around, Debbie and Carl were both coming downstairs, shocked at how small their older sister looked on the floor. They started to crowd hers and Lip’s space on the kitchen floor, asking Fiona a billion and one questions, but Lip got up off the floor and grabbed them by the shoulders.

“You guys, go upstairs.” Lip told Debbie and Carl, the latter two’s eyes still on Fiona. “Ian and I will handle Fiona. You need to go to bed.”

Just when Debbie and Carl were walking slowly up the stairs, I heard a couple of knocks at the front door. I invited Kev and Vee inside seconds later. Vee’s leather jacket was over her pajamas, and I assumed that they got a little suspicious about what was going on before heading off to bed.

“I’m not foreign to no damn gunshots. I wanna know what happened over here,” Vee called throughout the house, storming through the living room to find Lip and Fiona in the kitchen. Her voice wasn’t as loud when she got a better look at Fiona’s face, kneeling down to place a hand on Fiona’s back.

“Fi, what happened?” Kev asked, frowning with concern. “We heard shouting, and then there was a car outside –“

Fiona continued to sob in Vee’s arms, and Vee comforted her as much as she could, pushing strands of brunette hair out of Fiona’s face. “It’s…” Fiona spoke, but she could barely control her sobs. “They took them.”

“Who, honey?” Vee asked in her motherly tone. “Go slow, okay?”

Before Fiona had a chance to answer, Lip spoke up. “It was the same fucking asshat who kidnapped Mandy.” Kev and Vee looked up in his direction. “They probably wanted to come here to take Mickey, using Mandy as bait.”

Kev frowned. “You know all of this?”

Lip shrugged. “Not sure if it’s a hundred percent true, but it sure did feel like it.”

I felt so awful. Mickey didn’t know what he was getting into, and now he and his sister were out there somewhere, victims of their father’s horrendous torture methods he called parenting. Who knows where they are now, I have no clue. The car drove off about a few minutes ago, so they couldn’t have gone too far.

“Did any of you see any license plates that looked familiar?” Vee asked me and Lip, still on the ground with Fiona in her arms.

My older brother shook his head while I looked over at the two women against the wall. “I saw a tan car drive off down the street, but I never saw the license plate,” I confessed, my shoulders slumping in defeat.

Kev and Vee were both silent after that. The only sounds that filled the room were Fiona’s sobs, which seemed to have calmed down a bit but not by a lot. Kev walked out of the room and stated, “I’m gonna call the police and let ‘em know what’s going on.” When he was out of the room, Lip strolled on over to the kitchen counter to grab a glass of water for Fiona, leaving the two women on the floor.

I turned my head slightly and noticed from the corner of my eye that Debbie and Carl were hiding away on the staircase, listening on to the conversation. When they spotted my head turn, they both scrambled out of the hallway and into their rooms.

My attention went back to Fiona and the look on her face as she curled into a ball in Vee’s arms. She did everything she could to protect us, to protect Mickey and Mandy, and all of that seemed to have fallen on top of her head. I understand her scare from the bullet that could have hit her body at any moment. I could even see the guilt in her face as she cried and cried about how she allowed those men – whoever they were – to take Mickey and Mandy out of the house. I knew it wasn’t her fault nor it was Mickey’s or Mandy’s. Terry sent those people here, although he knew how wrong he was for doing so.

The real question now, though, is where the hell did those people actually take them? Fiona, Lip, Kev, and Vee checked the Milkovich house often, and no one was there every time. Not even Terry’s car was parked outside. It can’t be possible for the Milkovich household to move out only after being in the neighborhood for about a month, unless they burned the house down or something like that.

I sighed as I headed back upstairs and into my room, walking over to my phone on the charger and texting Mandy and Mickey a message on her cell phone.

 _Mandy, where did they take you? Call me back_.

_Mick, it’s me. Where are you guys?_

When neither one of them responded, I just headed back to bed, keeping myself alert for any new updates.

* * *

Mickey struggled throughout the entire ride. Dad’s two henchmen had taped our wrists together with duct tape and then added a couple of strips to our mouths. Mickey looked like he really wanted to say something to me, but he couldn’t since he couldn’t move his wrists. He continued to grunt, hoping someone would pay attention to him, but the guy sitting next to him – Horris, I think – just got irritated with him.

“Shut the fuck up, kid.” He said, pulling his gun out of his jacket, “or you’ll take one of these to the head.”

Dad was driving in the front seat, looking at Mickey through the mirror above him. “Ah, it’s alright, Horris,” he spoke, making a turn down another street. “I told ya, he’s the deaf one. Can’t say a word if his pathetic little life depended on it.” I heard Dad mumble that last part, even if he was trying to keep it to himself. Many people know how Mickey became deaf in the first place, which was why I didn’t understand why Dad always blamed Mickey for it.

“He’ll be talkin’ eventually,” Dad rambled on, “once we start aiming silver bullets at that over-sized head of his.”

No. Dad was not going to kill Mickey. He couldn’t – he fucking won’t. He can talk shit about how he can’t communicate like other people, but he’s not gonna get rid of him because he doesn’t love him unconditionally like a normal dad should.

Hell, Dad doesn’t love him period; if he did, he would have prevented this from happening. Maybe Mickey could have been able to be more independent of himself.

Mickey was breathing hard right next to me. When I turned my head, I saw him shake a little bit, staring ahead so he won’t look Horris in the eye. His eyes were a little wet as if he was about to cry, and it broke my heart seeing my brother look like this.

“Aw, you weepin’ back there?” the man in the front seat asked, turning his head and facing Mickey. I saw from the corner of my eye how Mickey was struggling to maintain his composure. He barely had time to register what the guy was even saying. “Daddy don’t want you misbehaving, you hear?"

When Mickey didn’t respond, and his body continued to tremble, Horris jerked him to the side. From where I sat, I saw Horris digging the gun in Mickey’s cheek, causing Mickey to shut his eyes. “Keep your mouth shut, you hear?” He paused and then chuckled. “Oh yeah, that’s right. You can’t.”

Mickey was shoved in my direction. He sat a little straighter, but his eyes were still shut, probably to calm himself down and prevent himself from crying in front of Dad and the henchmen.

I really wanted to help him, but we were stuck in the same predicament. And every time it seemed like said predicament was under control, it came back to smack us dead in the face. It wasn’t helping that these guys, my dad included, were making fun of Mickey’s condition. Normally the jerks at school would say something like that.

That is, if Mickey actually went to school. Thanks to Dad, that privilege was taken away, too.

My eyes fell unto my lap where my taped hands were sitting, and then I glanced over at Mickey’s. I reached my hands over so they were resting on Mickey’s lap, getting my right hand to hold onto Mickey’s right. He looked over at me when our hands came in contact, and he gripped onto my hand as tightly as possible.

This was how scared Mickey Milkovich was. This was how scared I, Mandy Milkovich, was. Just because we had a strict father with no redeeming qualities about himself doesn’t mean that his kids are the same way. I, for one, don’t want anything to do with Terry Milkovich. Unfortunately, due to some fucked-up fate, I ended up being his daughter, and Mickey ended up being his now-deaf son.

Looking out the window, I noticed that we weren’t heading towards the house. Actually, that observation was long noticed just as we pulled off away from the Gallagher house. I didn’t recognize this neighborhood at all. If there were relatives who lived here, I didn’t remember any.

Suddenly, I saw the light from my cell phone blink in my pocket. Someone was trying to get in touch with me. Another light, followed by vibrations, came from the floor of the car. Mickey’s phone had fallen, and before he got the chance to retrieve it, Horris was taping his wrists together. I looked between Horris, my Dad, and the man in the passenger seat to see if anyone was looking before I leaned forward and squinted at Mickey’s phone screen to check the person’s name on the notification.

It was a text message from Ian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's past midnight, and I feel terrible about myself. Lmfao.


	32. Token Working Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This wasn’t the end of the world, I knew that much. Terry Milkovich can’t prevail in his attempts to ruin his son and daughter’s lives even further than they already are, and none of us were going to let that happen. Eventually he’s going to pay some form of consequence for everything he’s done, whatever the consequence may be. Mickey and Mandy, though – by some miracle, I hope they can make it out of this mess before we all meet some devastating fate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna warn you guys right now. There is a long-ass author's note at the end of this, along with a few spoilers as well, so brace yourselves.

The next morning was filled with so much unbearable tension. Debbie, Carl, Liam, and I were seated at the breakfast table, and pretty much everyone else was pacing back and forth, trying to contact any available person they knew in hopes that one of them could locate Mickey and Mandy’s whereabouts. I tried calling Mandy’s number about eight to ten times this morning, and they all went to voicemail. Did she have her phone turned off or something? How come she wasn’t picking up?

“Hello, Lucas?” Fiona spoke to the person on the other line on her cell phone, scrambling eggs in front of her and checking on the sausage patties at the same time. “Yeah, I was calling to see if Mandy got back in touch with you at all?” She listened closely before her shoulders nearly slumped in disappointment. “You didn’t happen to see her brother, either, did you?” Another beat. “Mickey Milkovich. He’s her older brother.”

I gulped at hearing his name come out of Fiona’s mouth. My fingers hovered over the keyboard on my phone as I stared down at the number of messages I sent to Mickey’s phone since last night. There were about thirty of them by now, and Mickey didn’t respond to any of them. Neither one of the Milkoviches answered him within the past few hours, and I was getting really worried. Their phones couldn’t have been off, though that’s what I hoped happened anyways.

“Jessica, do you have a moment?” Vee asked the woman over her house phone. I remember one time she brought hers and Kev’s house phone all the way over to our house from theirs before finding out that Frank somehow ended up in Canada. “Yeah, I need you to keep an eye out for two kids for me. Can you do that?” A beat. “Both of ‘em are teenagers.” Another beat. “One is a girl named Mandy – dark hair, light skin, you know – and the other one is a boy named Mickey.”

Kev entered the kitchen from the back door, his cell phone up to his ear. “Yeah, they were kidnapped last night, and we’re trying to find their kidnappers.” He paused for a moment and glanced over at Vee, who was standing by the window with the house phone. “Vee, are you serious? You’re gonna stretch the cord out!”

The woman’s dreads swung around when she met eyes with her husband in the other room. “It’s a phone, Kev! The house isn’t gonna crumble down without it.”

I turned back to my phone, expecting some kind of notification to come up from either one of the Milkovich siblings, but I came up empty-handed. Not even a second later, I heard Debbie’s voice next to me. “Any luck?” she asked, and I swear it sounded like she had given up hope somewhere. I wasn’t exactly sure.

That was the last thing I wanted anyone to do.

“Nope.” I shook my head, tossing the phone on the table with a loud thug and running my hands through my hair in exhaustion.

“Did they try calling the police?” Debbie asked, spoon-feeding Liam some cereal as she did so.

“I told them the description of the car and everything,” I explained to her, wondering whether or not the cops actually found them or not. My head shook. “No one found anything yet.”

From the corner of my eye, I could see the disappointed look on my little sister’s face. She was upset, worried even. Other than me and Fiona, she interacted with Mickey and Mandy the most, it seems like, and now both of the Milkoviches were victims in a kidnapping, with no one catching sight of them within the past few hours.

This wasn’t the end of the world, I knew that much. Terry Milkovich can’t prevail in his attempts to ruin his son and daughter’s lives even further than they already are, and none of us were going to let that happen. Eventually he’s going to pay some form of consequence for everything he’s done, whatever the consequence may be. Mickey and Mandy, though – by some miracle, I hope they can make it out of this mess before we all meet some devastating fate.

I reached a hand out to touch Debbie’s back, looking sincerely into her eyes as possible. “We’re gonna find them, Debs. Everyone’s doing everything they can to make that happen. It’s just taking a while to actually find out where they are. That’s all.”

Debbie nodded, though her response didn’t seem believable at first. I don’t blame her, though, because I’m actually as anxious about this as she is.

Fiona came over to the table with our breakfast food, setting plates in front of me and Debbie. “No luck?” she had asked me in reference to the phone calls and text messages to Mickey and Mandy. I just shook my head, and she sighed. “I think I might have to take a day off work today to see if I can sort this shit out.”

“Aren’t the police doing anything about it?” I asked Fiona, a little irritated.

“The one we spoke to last night asked for a description of the two,” Fiona replied, walking back over to the counter to retrieve a plate for Carl. “I gave them what I could, but I’m gonna need some photos of them to present.” She looked over towards me. “You don’t happen to have anything they could use?”

I glanced down at my phone and went through the camera roll. The majority of my photos were either of random objects, one of my siblings doing something random or ridiculous, or of me and Mickey. Some of the photos I had were of Mickey when he wasn’t even paying attention to the camera, but they probably weren’t good-enough photos to use that could help the police much.

Then I came across one that I had taken of Mickey weeks ago. It was a photo of him the same day I had kissed him for the first time.

Mickey didn’t smile that much in photos, it seemed like. Sometimes I would tickle him or something, and that would prompt him to laugh even for a second. Those were the kinds of photos on my feed that I loved the most. Mickey had a wonderful smile, and I don’t think he realizes how good it really is.

After gazing at the photo for a good couple of seconds, I sent the photo to Fiona’s cell phone. “I sent one to you,” I told her.

Fiona pulled her phone out of her pocket and observed the notification she had received. “Any of Mandy?”

“Most of the photos I’ve seen of her are on her phone,” I told her unfortunately.

“Fuck.” Fiona ran a hand through her hair for a minute before returning to the table with Carl’s plate. Her eyes fell back to the photo of Mickey I had sent to her. “Maybe I can use this to help me with her description a little bit.” She slid her phone back into her pocket and started clapping her hands together. “You all finish eating so you can get to school, alright?”

The moment she left us alone at the table, Lip came down, already dressed in his clothes for the day. He had taken a piece of the sausage patty that was on the plate Fiona made for him before putting the rest back. He grabbed his backpack from off the floor by the dryer and placed the strap over his shoulder.

“Not hungry?”

“Tutoring. Getting paid for test prep, too, so we’ll have more money for the squirrel fund by the end of the day,” was all Lip said as he started to walk towards the living room where Kev and Vee were.

“Hey, you think you could look around a bit today after school?” Fiona asked before Lip made it to the front door. “Maybe search around the school or something for Mandy?”

“I’m on it.” And with that, Lip was gone.

Fiona drank some coffee from her mug before walking over to the table again, taking Liam’s almost-empty cereal bowl from in front of him. “Hey, little one,” she cooed in her baby voice, rubbing a hand through his curly hair. “You wanna go on an adventure today?” The little guy cheered as Fiona got him out of his seat, bringing him over to the counter so she could discard the contents inside his bowl.

A few minutes later, I had finished eating and got up from my own seat, taking the phone with me. “You ready, Debs?” I asked my sister before heading back up the stairs for my backpack. She popped the last bit of her scrambled eggs in her mouth before taking the plates and putting them in the sink.

Once I left my room with my backpack, I checked my phone another time, still coming up empty-handed before sending two quick text messages and calling Mandy’s number for what seemed like the seventeenth time this morning. Still no luck.

Wouldn’t it be great to feel lucky again? A guy could dream.

* * *

Mickey and I were tied up in the basement of an unknown house – I assume it belonged to one of the henchmen that kidnapped us. Dad probably wanted to stay far away from our own house as possible so the police wouldn’t be after him. It didn’t do him any good; it just made him even more guilty.

Dad was smoking a cigarette in front of us in a chair across this small table that separated us. Horris was pacing back and forth with my cell phone in his hand, checking the incoming notifications. “It’s that Gallagher brat again,” he spoke after a dreaded silence. Dad didn’t respond to him; his eyes were cold and focused on the both of us.

“You two takin’ a likin’ to those Gallaghers, huh?” his voice was eerie so to speak. Neither I nor Mickey responded to him, though, and our hands were tied behind our backs so we wouldn’t get rid of the ropes and make an escape.

He placed his cigarette down and folded his hands together, allowing his chin to rest on top of them. “New neighbors turned buddies or some shit?”

 _Yeah, and they’re twelve times better than you_ , was what I wanted to say but couldn’t.

There was another silence. I turned my head towards Mickey, who casted his eyes down to his lap in hopes that the holes that were being burned into his face by Dad’s own eyes would heal. He didn’t want to be here, and neither did I. It makes me feel even more guilty about bringing him into this mess.

“Your sis got a job, Mick. Didn’t ya hear?” Dad spoke, though he still doesn’t respect the fact that Mickey can’t hear a thing he says. The chuckle that escaped his mouth made it even sicker. Mickey’s eyes didn’t reach his for the next couple of seconds until Dad started to get up out of his seat, rounding the table so he could stand next to my brother. “She’s workin’ at that, uh, little food shack down the street from the school, I heard.”

“A restaurant.” My voice sounded very weak from the screaming and crying that I had done hours before. Milkoviches weren’t supposed to be weak, is what they say, yet we’re being held hostage against our will and being looked down upon like we are.

Dad’s head turned towards me, and Mickey’s followed suit. He gulped at me, expecting some violent response from Dad in this confrontation of ours.

“You say somethin’, little twit?”

I frowned at him, balling my fists behind my back. “A fucking restaurant,” I told him in a louder, fiercer voice. “And why the fuck do you even care? You never cared about either one of us.”

Dad snorted. “Why?” There was a beat in the conversation. “You’re my little workin’ girl. You and the big boys are coming up in the world, ain’t ya?” My ears let out steam at his words. No way was I gonna be his so-called _working girl_. The only reason I have this job anyway is because Fiona needed money for the broken window, and I needed money for the abortion. There was no room for placing money aside for him, nor was I willing to even do so.

He chuckled again. “Got yourself somethin’ legal that you’re good at,” he went on, and I just got even madder. “Brings in the money, too. We’re gonna need some heat in that bitch sooner or later.”

“I’m not giving you any of my money,” I barked back.

Dad’s eyebrows went up on his head. “Oh yeah, that’s right.” He reached back behind him and grabbed the cigarette, taking a drag of it and releasing some of the smoke from out of his mouth and nose. “Fuckin’ baby, right?” I didn’t respond, and he just stared at me with some kind of disappointment in his eyes. “You’re one of those fuckin’ baby breeders now.”

I balled up my fists again and then relaxed them. “We were…gonna abort it.”

Dad nodded. He didn’t say anything back, though, which was driving me nuts. He had consequences for all of the Milkovich kids if we broke any of his rules – no getting pregnant, no obeying father’s rules, no snitching, no ditching, none of that “gay stuff” or whatever he liked to call it whatever day of the week. He wanted the perfect Milkovich kid, which he seemed to get out of Jamie and Tony the most, out of all of us.

“Serves you fuckin’ right,” Dad replied with some venom in his voice, retrieving the cigarette again and puffing out more smoke, most of it blown in Mickey’s face. “Ain’t havin’ no fuckin’ babies no more.”

He placed the cigarette back down and faced Mickey, noticing the stern look on my brother’s face. “You see her?” he asked, gesturing towards me, and I turned my head towards Mickey. A frown started to grow on his face, and from where I sat, I could see his fists ball up, his tattoos dark against his pale skin. “She ain’t hangin’ around no more. She’s makin’ something of herself.”

Dad always treated Mickey like he wasn’t worth anything, most likely due to his condition. Deaf people have the opportunity to be something great. I know deep down that Mickey can be one of those successful people in the future who doesn’t let being deaf get in his way. All he needed was some support and courage.

But he was Terry Milkovich’s son, and when the slightest thing is wrong with you, from being deaf to having some abnormality, you don’t really get the support you deserve.

“You could learn somethin’ from your sister and your brothers,” Dad continued, crossing his arms. “Gettin’ your ass off the couch and bringin’ the fuckin’ dough in the house, doin’ something fuckin’ useful for once.” I could tell Mickey was getting angrier. He knew how to read lips very well, with some practice over the years, so to see Dad mouth these words to him really tampered with his emotions.

Dad leaned closer to him and chuckled. “You ain’t shit. Just nothin’ but a waste of air.” Mickey began to shake. “The fuck is the world gonna want to do with you?”

Tears seemed to be stinging Mickey’s eyes, but they weren’t coming down his face. The way his chest heaved, the way his shoulders tensed, the way his hands clenched behind him – they were all signs of Mickey going into some kind of tantrum.

What I didn’t expect was the first words Mickey ever said since he was about five years old come out of his mouth. “Fuck you.” His voice was loud, and it nearly echoed throughout the basement. Even Horris and the other henchman heard how loud his voice was, and it caught everyone off guard.

My eyeballs bugged out of their sockets, but Mickey didn’t seem to falter. He angrily stared up at Dad, shaking in his own seat. He was trying everything he could to stay calm and protect the both of us, but I think he knew that he was about to meet some sort of revenge for talking like that to Dad.

I’m still not over Mickey talking for the first time, either. His voice was as ferocious as he felt, which was definitely accurate.

Dad bit on his bottom lip, turning his head towards Horris, raising an eyebrow and inviting him over. When he turned back around, he threw a punch directly into Mickey’s right eye. A few more punches followed – one on the nose, some on the jaw, and one on the left side of his face. As he attacked my brother, he shouted a bunch of slurs that Mickey was unable to register. Mickey tried to kick him, but that was when he realized that his feet were tied to the legs of the chair.

Fucking great.

I wanted to help him. I wanted to protect him like he would always do for me, but I felt hopeless sitting here in the same predicament he’s in – tied to a chair with no way of escape.

Horris had a baseball bat in his hand and started whacking Mickey on his upper body. He was bound to get bruises on him when they were done with him. I screamed in my seat, shaking around and trying to loosen the ties, but nothing was working.

A couple of moments later, and the two were done, Horris dropping the bat on the ground. Mickey had a bloody nose, a swollen bruise under his eye, and a scratch on his face where some skin had been removed. “Don’t you fuckin’ talk to me like that again,” Dad growled. The three men in the room walked up the stairs that led to the main floor of the house, and Mickey and I were left here under cheap fluorescent lighting.

Mickey wouldn’t look at me. He wouldn’t acknowledge me after what just happened. He looked embarrassed, and I understand why.

I scooted my chair over to him as best as I could. When I got close enough, I leaned against Mickey’s shoulder for comfort. That was when he looked down at me, softening at the look on my face that I gave him, and leaned against my head, sniffling and letting out a few tears.

* * *

My Chemistry teacher had assigned an individual class quiz for the day. Something about balancing chemical equations or something like that. I probably wouldn’t have aced this anyway considering that anything Science and Math related isn’t my strong suit. Then again, excluding probably English and History, what the hell even is my strong suit anymore?

Our quizzes were swapped by the people at our lab stations and then graded. I got two questions out of seven right. Just my luck.

Mandy would have studied this shit with me minutes before the quizzes were passed out. If not that, we would just cheat and text the answers to each other. Mandy found it easier that way. I’m not usually a cheater, but it was better than flat-out failing in another thing in my life that I needed.

Lucky for me, there wasn’t an active lab we had to do for the day. We were just in our textbooks and answering a few questions as groups. Two of the guys at my table were answering some of the questions, which gave me the opportunity to look down at my phone and see if Mickey or Mandy sent a message.

Still nothing.

“Mr. Gallagher,” I heard Mrs. Armstrong say over my shoulder, and I jumped a bit at how close she actually was. Usually Mandy would watch out for when the teacher was coming our way and make sure that I didn’t look too obvious when I looked at my phone. It was a really funky school day for me, and all because she wasn’t there. “I’m going to need you to put the phone away and work with your group.”

Embarrassed in myself, I locked my phone and placed it in my backpack, returning back to the work in front of me. This shit was hard, and it was only gonna get harder if I didn’t review it just for amoment. So I flipped through the book after reading the first question, searching for the answer.

The rest of the day was like Chemistry. I didn’t get caught too much with my phone in most of my classes, so I was in the clear for now. Still, neither Mandy nor Mickey answered any of my messages, and their voice boxes were full to the brim.

School let out a few minutes early today. Lip had asked me if I wanted to walk with him to Patsy’s Pies and meet with Fiona, but I declined the offer. We had split up at some point, for I wanted to see if Mandy would actually show up to work for her shift. Her boss might fire her if she doesn’t show up for a given number of days, and that’s what really had me worried for her. She still wanted the abortion to get rid of the baby, and she still wanted to owe us for the broken window, though she really didn’t have to, like Fiona previously said. All she wanted was to get by around here, but Terry Milkovich was barely letting her.

A couple of streets later, I could see the Chewy Chambers building where Mandy worked. I checked my surroundings before I went any closer to the place. Knowing Terry, he could be hiding out somewhere with a shotgun, ready to shoot me in the fucking eye.

With a deep breath, I made my way down the street until I stopped in front of the window of the building. I took a peek inside for a couple of seconds, no one recognizable at first.

And then a girl on the furthest side of the room came into view. Her hair was as long and dark as Mandy’s. She had the same height, same body type – I thought she did anyway.

Her head turned for a second to step aside so another girl could take someone’s order, and I caught the sight of her face.

It was Mandy.

How she managed to come to work and not school, I wasn’t exactly sure. But she was here. She wasn’t dead, which was the best part, because I don’t think I could handle one or two dead Milkoviches.

Speaking of which, when I looked around the inside of the restaurant again, I couldn’t see Mickey. Did Terry still have him? Did he manage to escape? Where the hell was he?

I looked down at my phone for a brief couple of seconds, contemplating my next move, and before I knew it, I was going through my contacts and scrolling until I found Fiona’s name. I pressed on her name and called her phone. Two rings went by before I heard background noises and, eventually, Fiona’s voice.

“Fiona?” I spoke to her.

“Ian?” Fiona asked, a little surprised by my call. “Is something wrong?”

My eyes trained back to Mandy, who was helping one of the waitresses carrying a tray of dishes to the back room before completely disappearing out of view. I heard Fiona’s voice again after snapping out of my daze, my eyes training away from the window to stare down at the sidewalk.

“I found Mandy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna let you all know right now that I've had a really rough transition into the new year.
> 
> Yes, I have seen the episode, so you don't have to keep guessing reasons why I'm upset right now. Hell, I didn't even watch the whole episode (I stopped a few minutes before it ended), and I'm still just...I don't know.
> 
> I've also been having complications with the storage on my phone. I was filming "the scene" (quotations are necessary, trust me) for people on Tumblr, and I wanted to divide it into 3 parts just in case anything happened that prevented it from not uploading. I was doing it for the people who a) didn't want to watch the episode, and b) for the people who couldn't access it. The first part was uploaded with no problem. It was only hours later that I realized that the second part didn't upload. That, and I had to re-record the third part because the video feature automatically cut the video short due to storage issues. Keep in mind, I only had 16 gigs of storage (clearly not enough for a phone for me, but whatever).
> 
> Long story short, I tried freeing storage on my phone only to almost lose all of my photos - videos and photos from graduation, my college trunk party, etc. - only to find them all on my iCloud account (thank God). But then I had to upload all three parts to Vimeo since Tumblr wouldn't let me upload parts 2 and 3, for some reason. It was gonna take hours until the upload completed, and even when I woke up after a six-hour sleep, it still didn't finish uploading (last night it said I had to wait for 4 hours, and then when I woke up, it still said 4 hours). So I pretty much gave up after a while.
> 
> Still, that was the ultimate sacrifice I made last night, but because I care about the people in the fandom.
> 
> Now the episode [spoiler alert]...I still don't believe what I just saw, to be quite honest. Literally the only redeeming things about the episode, for me, was Lip teaching and all of Svetlana's parts. The Yanis dude, Debbie's pregnancy, literally anything with Ian, and so on irked me to no end. Not only that, but they did the worst thing possible to Mickey, especially being that this [might] be his last scene on the show. Now that could change between now and later (I hope) - he can't be gone forever, right? - but for right now, I am just devastated for him. He loved Ian so much and just wanted him to wait, but Ian not only defended someone he could give two shits about in season five, but he rejected the one person who has done everything for him. It's worse knowing that Mickey will be locked away for 15 years (8 for overcrowding) and that he has a tattoo on his chest that's most likely infected by now. And the way he looked when he was sitting by himself and hanging up the phone? Depressing as shit.
> 
> Now for the question everyone might ask me: are you still gonna be in the Shameless fandom?
> 
> One would say no because of what happened in 6x01, and I understand why. However, I'm kinda attached to the characters, and I hate what the writers have done to them, but I love the characters before this point (mainly from S1 to S4/5x01, for the most part). And I also love writing fanfiction for them, too (even if all of my stories are Ian/Mickey-centric. So no, I'm not gonna leave the fandom, and yes, I will continue to write stories. Truth is, I love writing Shameless fanfiction. I love expressing new ideas I have through writing. It's been a while since I found something I could write for a show that I've dedicated myself to (I love HTGAWM, but I would need to read more fanfiction from their fandom and get more involved to even be on the same level as I am with Shameless). Plus, the fanfiction writers/readers/etc. make the fandom, not what happens in canon. I want to continue entertaining people. That's why I love to write in the first place.
> 
> Anyways, that's the end of my little rant (sorry that it's so long, but I had to get it out). I just want to hug you all and let you know that it's gonna be okay, even if I'm aware that it's hard to do so. I hope the rest of 2016 does great things for you. I love you all. <3


	33. Let Freedom Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mickey and Mandy had a lot of supporters, from what I realized. It would take time for them to get used to all of us, but they deserved people who cared. Back under that Milkovich house, it seemed like the world was full of evil demons who could give a shit about how much food they ate or how much blood they lost each day. Any signs of hope weren’t bright enough against the dark path they’ve been walking down. Now, they had all of us, and it’s like they regained sight or something."

I had overheard a conversation almost two hours ago between Dad and Horris by the basement door when I woke up that morning.

Or whatever time it was.

“Fredrick wants his percent of the cut today,” Horris spoke first.

“The fuck he bitching for?” Dad asked, furious. “I told ‘im I would have his percent when I was fuckin’ ready.”

“You’ve put this off for about a week already. He ain’t waitin’ no more.”

Apparently Dad had a customer turned employee of some sorts in the outskirts of Chicago who was wanting some cash for some of the drug deals they had been going on together. I didn’t know much about it since it’s been a while since I’ve been under Dad’s roof, but from the information I received within the first forty minutes I’ve been awake, it gave me a great idea.

One that I hoped would work, if I played my cards right.

Dad and Horris conversed for the next couple of minutes before their voices faded, confirming their departure. Voices were heard once again, but further within the house – mostly likely in the living room or the kitchen, but I couldn’t tell. I decided to wait a couple of minutes and see if the coast was clear. Sure enough, no voices were heard from any of the guys within the next twenty minutes. Someone was obviously still in the house, and I couldn’t use the front door to get away.

There was a door in the basement that led outside, though, along with a window big enough for me to fit through. That and the little sturdy table underneath the window, and it gave me all of the resources I needed to get us out of here.

So I struggled against the rope that was tied around my wrists. At some point when Dad and the henchmen were upstairs and dealing with their own business, I had attempted at freeing myself so I could help Mickey out of his chair. It didn’t work then, but now I realized that the rope was a little bit looser now, which gave me a little string of hope.

A few minutes later, and the rope around my wrists was released. Good thing, too, because my wrists were hurting like a bitch.

Mickey woke up seconds later, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead when he realized that my hands were free. The bruise under his eye turned purple, and the blood that dripped from his nose had dried on him. Some of it even got on his clothes. I noticed this after I freed my legs from those of the chair’s. I didn’t want anyone upstairs knowing my plan, much less knowing that I got the ropes off of me in the first place, so I just signed to Mickey. “I know a way out, but you’ve got to be quiet.” Mickey nodded in response.

As quickly as possible, I removed the bindings around his wrists and ankles and helped him out of the chair. I listened around for a couple of seconds to see if the coast was really clear. A sneeze erupted from somewhere in the house, an indication that someone was definitely there.

We immediately snuck over to the back door and unlocking it. It made a small squeaking sound, which I was a bit worried about considering that someone upstairs may have heard it.

And I was really hoping they didn’t.

We squeezed out of the doorway and checked our surroundings one more time. The car Dad was driving wasn’t in sight, and the inside of the garage was empty, so the coast was definitely clear.

Mickey and I ran away from that house as fast as we could, eventually stopping by an alleyway that was about three blocks away from it so we could catch our breaths. That was when I turned around and faced Mickey, noticing the frightened look on his face. I knew what he was thinking, too. Dad would eventually come looking for us. He will know that we’ve escaped, and then he’ll just come looking for us again.

But I wouldn’t let that happen. Mickey and I are free now, which meant that we could turn to people for help before anything happened.

I wrapped my arms around Mickey and brought him into a really tight hug, rubbing his back for comfort. When I released him, he was biting down on his bottom lip, drawing some more blood onto the surface. He looked like a giant mess. We didn’t have tissues on us, so I couldn’t get the blood off of him. We need to get somewhere safe so we can tend to the wounds.

“We have to get someone to call 9-1-1 for us,” I signed to him, and he agreed.

The two of us still weren’t in a familiar neighborhood, from the looks of the surroundings. Even if we were far away from the house, we still needed an actual, safe location. I checked the street signs and noticed that we were further away from the Gallagher house as possible. Going to their place wouldn’t be an option at the moment, being that everyone was out of the house around this time – or so I think. It was really fucking hard to figure this out without a clock.

I checked the street signs one more time before looking back over at my brother. “My work place should be about a couple of miles away from here.”

Mickey frowned. “How the fuck are we gonna get there without money for the bus?”

“We don’t need the damn bus. We can just walk.”

“Dad could be looking out for us.”

“He doesn’t even know we’re gone. Just keep your eyes down, and if you see a familiar car, then don’t let the driver see you.” I paused to gaze into Mickey’s eyes. He was so conflicted about this idea, as much as I wanted him to know that it had the potential to work. I needed him to trust me on this. At the moment, we’re all we have for each other, and I didn’t want us getting hurt again. “Come on, Mickey. I need you on this.”

Mickey didn’t respond for the next couple of seconds, but when he did, he slowly nodded in my direction. I took his wrist and ended up guiding the both of us to Chewy’s Chambers by following all of the street signs, asking people where the street was occasionally. We got turned around about three times, and people on the street were looking at us strangely due to the blood and bruises on Mickey’s face. I had to keep telling Mickey to keep his head down, because he was in no shape to be seen like a beaten puppy in public.

A while later, we made it there, checking the area first before heading inside. Mickey’s head was still down as I rounded the front counter. A couple of the waitresses I work with were looking at us funny, and they most definitely had the right to, given our current state.

Lucas was about to bring some dishes to the kitchen when he saw the both of us, and that prompted him to rush all the way over to me. “Mandy,” he whispered in shock. “What the hell happened to you? Fiona was worried sick –“

“It’s a long story, and I’m willing to explain myself,” I began, “but I just need you to call 9-1-1 and tell them that we escaped. I know the address of the place.”

Lucas didn’t wait one second. He was already at the phone and dialing the numbers. There were a couple of short rings before a woman spoke to him on the other line. “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?"

“Um, hi,” Lucas began. “It’s about the missing teenagers, Mandy and Mickey Milkovich.”

All of a sudden, one of the waitresses, Vanessa, joined us behind the counter and noticed the damage done to Mickey’s face. She brought his chin up a little bit to observe the bloody nose. “My God,” Vanessa gasped at the sight of Mickey. “Who did this to you?”

“Our dad,” I croaked unexpectedly. Vanessa’s chin dropped at the news. “We got away, though, so I hope Mickey’s gonna be alright.”

“His name is Mickey?” the brunette asked, and I nodded before she looked at him, telling him that she would get a towel for his nose. He tried reading her lips, but it wasn’t clear enough to him. He started signing something, and that’s when Vanessa got the hint. She pointed towards her own mouth, referring to the blood on Mickey’s mouth, and he nodded, allowing Vanessa to head further into the kitchen for a wet paper towel.

“Mandy?” I whirled my head around when Lucas called my name. “They want to know the address of the place to search.”

I gulped for a moment. The cops were gonna come to the house and find whoever was left in there. Dad would eventually get arrested along with them. Who knows? Maybe the henchmen were snitches. It was very possible. Dad could come back looking for us knowing that we had escaped and called the cops on him.

But it would be worth it, especially knowing that Mickey and I are safe.

So I gave Lucas the address so he could give it to the woman on the other line. A couple of seconds passed before Lucas hung up and turned to me. “Mandy, they might be coming here to pick you and your brother up to ask a few questions about what happened. They’ll be here in about a few minutes.”

I sighed. Something was off my chest, for once, but I was kind of nervous about the cops showing up here and taking Mickey and I out with them – to the same place where one of the henchmen could be taken, too, I might add.

I responded with a nod, but I lingered there for a moment. Lucas knew that I probably had something else to say, but I decided to let it slide. “Thanks, Lucas.”

He nodded. “No problem.”

Lucas walked towards the bin of dishes he was about to take to the back of the kitchen. My head turned towards Mickey, who was seated on a stool in the back somewhere as Vanessa gave him the towel to wipe some of the blood off his face. That was when I walked from behind the counter and met up with Heidi. She was about to serve a family at her assigned table when she caught sight of me.

“Jesus, Mands.” Heidi gasped at the sight of me. “They were talkin’ about you last night. Where’d you go?”

“Long story,” I explained. “I was just wondering if you needed some help.”

Heidi smiled and waved a dismissive hand. “Please, I think after going through the struggle that got you here, I don’t think you need to put yourself under more stress.” She took the family’s order before walking towards an empty table full of plates and silverware, with Mandy in tow. She already picked up a bunch of the plates, glasses, and utensils off the table, but there were still some left over. “But if you wanna help me take about two of these plates, that would be enough.”

I grabbed the two plates and one of the glasses, following Heidi through the restaurant and back into the kitchen. Mickey was still on the stool, but Lucas and Vanessa were sharing a conversation. “They might need the evidence of his assault, and they won’t get it if we’re healing his wounds.”

“I understand,” Vanessa replied. “He’s just covered in a lot of blood, and I wanted to clear some of that off.”

Heidi placed her load of dishes in the sink before turning towards Mickey, frowning at the damage done to him. “Jesus fucking Christ, what happened here?” She bent down a little bit and noticed the sad look on Mickey’s face. He looked embarrassed, and he had all the right to be.

“Someone’s gonna take care of him, guys,” Lucas told Vanessa and Heidi. “We called and made sure of that.”

“You better have,” Heidi responded. “Poor thing looks like shit. I can’t believe the people in this goddamn country.”

I made a move to walk over to Mickey and comfort him the best I could, but I didn’t even make it by his side once I heard a familiar voice near the entrance to the kitchen.

“Mandy?” It was Ian Gallagher.

* * *

Mandy told me everything. She told me about how the errand her father had to make and that her henchmen were upstairs and watching the place until he returned. She told me about how she escaped and freed her brother before exiting the house once and for all. She told me about the journey she took to get here and how she had to explain the whole story to Lucas. She told me about Lucas calling the police and making sure that whoever was at the house got caught, and a part of me felt so fucking relieved.

Mandy looked ashamed for a brief second, for she was playing with her own fingers in front of her. “I could have came to your place, but you guys were out of the house, and Dad could have found us around the perimeter.”

“You couldn't call Fiona with the restaurant phone? She was worried sick.”

“Like you expect to remember phone numbers, Ian.” She said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "And Dad confiscated our phones, so we couldn't call you guys back."

I sighed, running my hand through my hair, suddenly feeling terrible about myself.

When I looked up, Mandy smirked at me. “Thinkin’ about us, weren’t you, Gallagher?” A smile crept on my face, and I looked down at my feet, a little more embarrassed. Unexpectedly, I felt an arm wrap around my torso. Mandy brought me in for a little hug. “Don’t feel bad. At least you were doing what you could to help. I would have, too, if I was in your shoes.”

The two of us stood there for a couple of seconds before I broke the silence between us. “Where’s Mickey?”

Mandy rubbed the small of my back for a little bit. “The waitresses were playing doctor with him and shit before you came along.” She paused. “They’re going to the house and finding the culprits, and then they’re taking us to the station for questioning and all that shit. Tell Fiona when she gets here, okay?”

I nodded. “I will.” That was when Mandy led me to the kitchen, and my feet immediately stopped moving at the sight of Mickey up ahead.

He looked terrible, maybe even depressed or something remotely similar. His head was down, his eyes focused on his fingers on his lap. There was a dark purple bruise under his eye, and there was blood on his face and on his clothes. I could tell that there was a red spot on his upper arm, too, which could have also been a bruise, too. Why the fuck Terry Milkovich would be this violent and not give a shit, I wasn’t entirely sure.

Mickey’s head lifted for a moment. He must have noticed me from the corner of his eye, because his head quickly turned in my direction, his jaw lowering at the sight of me next to his sister. He got up and walked over to us, slowing down eventually before signing. “When did you get here?”

“A few minutes ago,” I signed back. Mickey nodded as he bit his bottom lip and stared up at me with worried eyes like if he was gonna cry.

I started to lean forward to hug him, but Mandy and I heard a voice behind us echo throughout the room. When we turned around, two policemen were standing beside the Lucas guy Mandy told me about. “Mandy and Mickey Milkovich?” the bald one asked.

Mandy lifted a hand. “I – I’m Mandy, and this is my brother, Mickey.”  She timidly replied, gesturing towards Mickey.

“We sent some of our team to the address of the house. They found one of the men in the living room sleeping on the couch, and we arrested him. We were unable to find the other two, though, but we have gathered enough evidence to arrest them as well.”

I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding in. One of those guys was finally arrested, and that was at least a start. The whereabouts of Terry Milkovich were still unknown, but Mickey and Mandy were free from him again, and that was the main thing that mattered.

After Mandy thanked the officer, he spoke up again. “If you don’t mind, we want to take you and your brother to the station to answer some questions.”

Mandy signed the officer’s words so Mickey could understand. I looked between the men in uniform and the two Milkovich siblings, taking in what was going on. “Um, my older sister took them in for a while when they got away from their dad the first time,” I explained to the officer. “Do you think I could go with them just in case?”

The second officer lifted an eyebrow. “Can I have your name please?”

“Ian. Ian Gallagher.”

“Oh yeah,” the older officer responded. “I remember Fiona Gallagher from earlier calls.” I nodded. “However, you and Fiona might have to find a way to the station. We’re just taking Mickey and Mandy there. I could give you the address, though, so Fiona would know where to go.”

I would have preferred to ride in the car with Mickey and Mandy and give the address to Fiona once I got there, but this was still an okay option. Fiona would be coming to the restaurant any minute with Lip now. “Thanks, officer. Thank you.”

“No problem.” He handed me a card before following the first officer out with the two Milkoviches. Mickey shot me one last glance before walking towards the restaurant entrance and heading to the police car. I followed all four of them outside.

When I got the sidewalk, Fiona and Lip were running down the street and calling to Mandy. “Oh, my God!” Fiona called, relief written all over her face. “Are you guys okay?”

Mandy nodded. “They’re taking us to the station.”

I joined Fiona by her side and gave her the address to the station. “One of the guys that kidnapped Mickey and Mandy was arrested. Mandy told me everything.”

“Are you sure?” Fiona asked, and I nodded. She ran a hand through her brunette hair, closing her eyes momentarily so she could catch her breath and relax for a brief second. As far as I was concerned, the feeling was mutual between me and Fiona in terms of finding the Milkoviches and getting them to safety.

But Terry and another one of his guys were still out there, and I won’t be completely satisfied until they’re captured.

* * *

A few hours had passed since everyone met up with each other. Fiona, Lip, and I were brought in at different points to answer questions about what we saw on the night that Mickey and Mandy were taken away. I did my best to answer as honestly as I could, but recalling the series of events that got them there was more painful than promising myself to do so. The memory of the gunshot and Fiona’s terrified face especially did it for me.

We, along with Kev, Vee, and the rest of the Gallaghers, were waiting in the lounge area of the police station, waiting for Mickey and Mandy to be done with questioning. Vee had Debbie’s head on her lap, Kev was conversing with Fiona about what happened, Carl was looking at some models from one of the magazines that was laying on the table, and Lip was sitting next to me with Liam in his lap, rubbing his little back as he snored against his shoulder.

Mickey and Mandy had a lot of supporters, from what I realized. It would take time for them to get used to all of us, but they deserved people who cared. Back under that Milkovich house, it seemed like the world was full of evil demons who could give a shit about how much food they ate or how much blood they lost each day. Any signs of hope weren’t bright enough against the dark path they’ve been walking down. Now, they had all of us, and it’s like they regained sight or something.

“How’d you know where to find them?” I heard Lip’s voice next to me, and I turned my head so I could meet his eyes. His eyebrow was a little furrowed, trying to put all the pieces together.

I shook my head. “I didn’t.” A beat passed as I looked down at my lap. “Instincts, I guess.”

Lip huffed. “You had good ones.” I nodded, picking at some of my fingers. “You think they’re gonna be okay after all of this? I mean, that’s some emotionally-damaging shit. He had fucking dudes as bodyguards or some shit keeping them cornered, not even adding the fact that two out of three are still out there.”

I was silent for a moment, pondering over the possible actions that Mickey and Mandy could carry out once we got them home. They’ve been through traumatic experiences before, ranging from child abuse to rape to even death threats, but kidnapping seemed like a whole new level from them, judging from the stories they’ve told me over the course of their visits and stays at the Gallagher house. It was frightening, to say the least, and it looked to have scarred their souls for the remainder of their childhoods.

Or what’s left of them. I’m surprised they even had a childhood with Terry Milkovich around.

“Maybe a little fragile,” I answered, a bit uncertain of myself. A beat passed. “Okay, maybe not a _little_.”

Lip nodded, adjusting Liam on his lap. “What if their dad comes back and finds out that they’re not there?” he asked. “Like, is he gonna bring his other sidekick or something and come to the house again?”

“I doubt the Chicago PD would even let him in.”

Lip scoffed. “What, so these guys are body-guarding our house now?” he asked, gesturing over to three cops in uniform standing by the front desk. “What’s next, the witness protection program?” I chuckled a bit, shaking my head and watching as a small strand fell over my forehead. Lip really did have a way of making light out of a very dark situation.

A few more minutes passed, and one of the officers – the bald one that came in the restaurant – walked over towards us in the lounge area, Mickey and Mandy walking behind him. The blood had been completely cleaned off of Mickey’s face. Fiona, Kev, and I all stood up at the sight of the heartbroken Milkoviches. Mandy had some trails of tears down her face, and Mickey looked as if he was trying to keep his in.

“We encourage the victims and any witnesses to attend trial for these situations,” the officer explained to Fiona as she made her way towards him. “It would benefit the victims if we have all the evidence and stories we need, and then we can put this man behind bars.”

Fiona nodded, hugging herself tightly as she could. “Thank you so much, officer.”

“Anytime,” he told her. “Our team is still on the look-out for the other men involved, but we’ll let you know when they’re in custody.” Fiona nodded, and the officer had left the scene, leaving all of us to reunite with the two Milkoviches.

Fiona hugged them both first, allowing arms to tightly wrap around her torso. Mickey’s eyes were closed shut, forcing himself not to cry in Fiona’s arms. But his cries and sniffles seemed to let themselves out, and Fiona found herself patting his and Mandy’s backs comfortably. This shit still wasn’t over, and that’s another reason why they’re not emotionally stable right now. Their hearts must feel like a ton of bricks by now.

Mickey and Mandy took turns hugging everyone around them. Mickey bit his lip when he met eyes with Debbie, who signed something to him before embracing him in a hug. His chin rested on her head as he looked up at me, a straight line forming with his lips. By the time he let Debbie go, he walked over to me and gave me a tight hug, hiding his face in the crook of my neck as more tears fell.

And I let him as I rubbed circles on his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no knowledge on court trials, hearings, sentencing, etc. (no knowledge on law enforcement in general), so I might not include one in this story. I'm not sure. But the guy is gonna get arrested nonetheless, so that's one out of three down. I tried my best with this chapter. It seemed a little better than the last.


	34. In Gallagher We Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ian and I were still a secret from the world outside of these blankets, but I’d keep him for as long as it would take. He can read me like a goddamn book, and this was only the first couple of chapters in this little novel we have going together. Plot’s really fucking messy right now with Dad running around the South Side with cops on his tail, but I’m only hoping that we won’t have to deal with him anymore so it could get better."

It’s been about two fuckin’ weeks since Mandy and I got out of that shit hole. A good thing, too, because I swear I thought I could smell cat piss and ashes in that goddamn basement.

Dad’s still out there somewhere, which is basically the only downside, but other than that, we’re back with the Gallaghers again. It felt good going to a home with a nice bed and people who actually give a shit about how much you eat or how many cuts you get.

What didn’t feel good at all was the fact that Mandy and I kept getting nightmares. Fuck, we got all kinds of them – some where Dad’s angry fucking face would just come out of nowhere; some that basically involved the same series of events that got us kidnapped in the first place; and even some where one of us, or even both of us, got shot or stabbed by him.

The kidnapping messed me up. I don’t know about Mandy, because we don’t talk as much about it, if not talk about anything in general, but the images made me undergo stress whenever I woke up from my nightmares. I would stay awake for about an hour or two after one of the nightmares ended and then sleep for the rest of the night. Hell, there were even times when I couldn’t sleep at all. Saturday night, I think I was in the living room until around 5:30 in the morning.

I remember Dad going through an episode when Mandy and I were younger than this, and he broke a wine bottle and was racing around the house to stab me with it – or hit me with it. Not sure which. Mama came to the rescue and carried me to the master bedroom and kept me there where she knew I was safe.

The bear she gave me was always in the closet, in a safe place where Dad wouldn’t rip it to shreds, despite the fact that Dad had gotten to it once anyway. Mama would give me the bear and tell me to hug it as close to me as possible, warning me to drown out the noises coming from the little hallway of the house where Dad was, banging against the door and wanting to claw at some skin. As much as I loved the bear, it wasn’t enough for me. I needed Mama to be with me. I didn’t want her getting hurt in the process.

Mama always did what she could to help Mandy and I stay in one piece, even if that meant breaking a couple of bones in her fragile body would be in order. I didn’t like that, though. Mama does – _did_ – so much for us, and she didn’t need to hurt herself more than she already was.

That night, Mama was asleep on the couch after Dad forced her to sleep there following the fight they had. She didn’t look near comfortable at all, and there were bruises on her neck and on her arms. It was the fall time, too, and Dad didn’t pay the heat on time, so it was cold as shit in the living room. I felt like I kinda owe it to her for protecting me and Mandy when we were in danger, and no one deserved to be shivering in the autumn cold on the living room couch like a neglected dog.

So I asked her to come to bed with me. Mama would always argue that my bed isn’t big enough for the both of us, but after Mama read me a bedtime story the same day Dad left Mandy and I out on the street by a corner store where he bought some more cigarettes, I knew she was wrong. Judging by the guilty look on her face, I assumed that she didn’t want her son looking at his greatly-defeated mother, the same person who has been trying to protect his son from someone who should be giving a shit about his needs.

Mama didn’t have to worry. I didn’t have Dad, and I never will at this point, but I knew then that I always had Mama.

Only now, at eighteen years old, I no longer had Mama to go to whenever I was feeling vulnerable. She was buried six feet under, and her soul was somewhere in the clouds, watching my every move and wishing she was there with me to wash all of the pain away. I don’t use the bear anymore, either, for I was getting too old for the thing. Still, the nightmares intensified the older I got. Mama will never be able to get rid of them for me, and I probably won’t have anything as close to her ever again.

Except that I actually have something – or someone – relatively close, now that I think about it, and he was in the other room with his brothers.

Sunday night – or Monday morning; I’m not sure, if we’re being honest – I was awake for about fifteen minutes, worried that I might have a rerun of the nightmare if I fell back to sleep again. So I slipped out of the sleeping bag, careful not to wake Mandy up, and then crept out of the room and headed towards Ian’s.

Lip was in the bed above the desk area to my right. Carl and Liam seemed to share a tiny bed in the corner of the room, and Ian had the bed up ahead to himself. I wasn’t sure how loud or whatever I was, but I made sure that no one would awake to me walking in the room before shaking Ian awake with both of my hands.

He rolled over, disturbed by whoever was taking him out of his slumber, and then his eyes seemed to have adjusted enough to focus on me. His features softened a little when he saw me, and then he signed, “you okay?”

I shrugged, pretending that nothing major was happening and signed back. “Can’t sleep.”

Ian cocked an eyebrow. “So you want me to get you some warm milk in a bottle or something?”

Of course, I flipped him off because he was being an inconsiderate jackass. He bit down a smile when he saw my middle finger, so the joke didn’t have any bite to it like I thought it would.

He started to sit up in the bed when I signed to him, “you okay letting me crash here tonight?”

“You wanna sleep here? In the bed?”

I rolled my eyes. “No, I wanna sleep on the roof.” I signed sarcastically, earning a head shake and another smile from Ian. He pulled back some of the covers on his bed, and after a second, I asked him, “could I sleep against the wall?”

There were times when I didn’t want to sleep closest to the door. On nights when I actually felt satisfied and comfortable enough to catch some Zs, I would sleep closer to the door. However, there were other nights where I worried about who would bust right through the door and beat me senseless. Dad did it once – some time after Mama died – and since then, I didn’t even want to face the door again. I’m still deaf, though, ever since the accident on the Fourth of July, and I didn’t even want to think about what would have happened if I didn’t see what was going on.

And yeah, I was at the Gallagher house this time around, but after that nightmare, I would feel better knowing that this ginger-headed giant would have some kind of protection over me and that I can sleep through the rest of the night.

Ian didn’t even question why I wanted to sleep by the wall; he just scooted over and made some space. I crawled on the twin-sized bed and got on Ian’s left side. I’m surprised that the two of us could fit in this thing. With me and Mama, it was understandable since I was a little fucking toddler. Now, though, Ian and I were relatively the same size – well, Ian was taller than me and built like a magazine model – sharing Ian’s childhood bed.

I was lying on my right side facing Ian, and Ian was on his left facing me. My heart started racing in my chest, out of nervousness. I shouldn’t be here. I probably look like a fuckin’ pussy right now, having to run to my secret boyfriend’s bed to sleep there when I can’t seem to catch any shut-eye on my own. Milkoviches weren’t pussies. Milkoviches handled their own damn problems without being dependent on other people, unless the law somehow got involved.

Plus, Ian’s other brothers were in the room, and I’m not gonna survive the day I catch Lip looking at the two of us in bed like an old, married couple in some fucking senior citizens home.

A part of this did feel right though, laying here with Ian. The bed is smaller than the one Lip sacrificed to give to me and Mandy, but it feels warmer and is doused in Ian’s scent. He smelled like pine trees and some brand of cologne – then again, does he even wear any? The smell was refreshing – welcoming, if you will. I’ve gotten used to it after we hung out so many times in the van in the backyard. I’ve gotten used to his smell after my first time, when Ian’s thick length was in me and I got the opportunity to actually feel Ian. I felt him – his movements, his breaths, his heart beats – I felt _all_ of him.

This was how I knew, for sure, that I would be safe. Ian was the first person in a while that I allowed to get that close to me and really understand what I was feeling, physically and emotionally. As corny as it sounded, I actually needed someone to be that security blanket that I’ve been seeking all these years, and I found that blanket in Ian Gallagher.

Hand movements distracted me from my inner thoughts. I looked ahead and noticed Ian signing in the darkness. It was a little hard to see because there wasn’t much of a light source in the room, with the exception of the moon and street lights shining through the bedroom window. A second passed before Ian started to sit up and rummage through his night stand until he pulled out a flashlight from the top shelf.

When he rested his upper body back on the mattress, he brought the sheets up over our heads and turned the flashlight on, aware of the fact that Lip, Carl, and Liam could potentially open their eyes and notice their brother and one of the Milkovich kids in the same bed. I had to adjust my eyes for a moment since the light was so bright, but when I did, Ian asked the question again.

“Something on your mind?”

I was pretty hesitant about giving him a proper answer. There were a lot of things on my mind, all of them revolving around pretty much the same thing. The kidnapped still had me fucked up, and I wasn’t sure if I was willing to share my feelings about all of that with Ian just yet.

“Mickey? You alright?” Ian was persistent in getting something out of me. If I learned anything about the tall fucker up until this point, it’s that he’s not gonna let go until he’s a hundred percent sure that I’m not letting myself fall apart.

My eyes flickered past Ian’s shoulders and then back to his eyes. Over shoulders, back to face. It was some weird back-and-forth cycle. We were underneath the covers and everything, so one would think that I wouldn’t have much of a problem right now; however, now that I’m one of the five senses shy of detecting trouble, I was more aware of my surroundings than I’ve ever been, especially now that Mandy and I experienced being kidnapped by our own father.

I gulped as I looked back into Ian’s eyes. One of my hands was near my mouth, and the other was resting on the mattress between me and Ian. Whenever I noticed Ian staring back at me, it’s like I felt smaller than I already was. I fucking hated feeling that way all the time, but I can’t help it. I never got to feel vulnerable with Dad around.

“Are you gonna check the door and…” I slowed down, realizing what I was signing to him. It looked stupid, signing this to Ian. It didn’t fucking feel right. “…make sure nobody comes in?”

The moment I saw the frown marks on Ian’s forehead deepen, I automatically felt like a complete jackass. “What do you mean?” Ian asked.

I shrugged, feeling the pit of my stomach irritating me. “Like…make sure no one comes in and…” My eyes shifted down, and heat started to rise on my face. I felt so embarrassed. I’m surprised Ian wasn’t laughing at me right now.

A couple of seconds passed before I saw Ian’s arm move, prompting me to look at his hand and finger movements. “Is this about you dad? You know, about…what happened?” I nodded, and Ian took another minute to stare into my eyes with concern. “Mickey, no one’s gonna come and hurt you. We got you guys back in time – hell, you guys freed _yourselves_ and came to us. That was a brave thing for you to do.”

“I get that,” I explained to him. “I just…”

I bit my bottom lip, focusing on Ian’s fingers resting in front of him on the mattress and on the pillow we shared. My breaths started feeling a little uneven at the memory of sleeping in the same childhood bed with Mama when hell broke loose in our old home. The littlest thing related to her could make me tear up in very astonishing ways.

Without looking back up into Ian’s eyes, I signed, “after Mama died, and I would go to sleep on a bad night, my dad would sometimes barge in and…”

My eyes watered at the many times Dad came in, unexpectedly yelling at me out of nowhere and putting red hand marks on my ass and on my arms. I could never detect the first moment when he would arrive, and that’s what scared me the most. I didn’t want a repeat of all the bad shit that’s happened because of this fucking hearing condition.

Ian brought a hand up to my face, angling my chin up so our eyes would meet. Whenever I would turn away, he wouldn’t let me; he wants me to gaze into his eyes and let him in my head. I’m not my best when I’m this emotional, though, so it gets difficult to actually do what Ian’s expecting of me. Still, I tried the best I could.

“I can’t even hear him when he comes, Ian,” I continued with a sniffle. “Dad’s appearances will always be a fuckin’ surprise to me, and one day I’ll be heading towards my worst, real-life nightmare and –“

Both of Ian’s hands gripped onto mine the moment two tears started to fall on my face and onto the pillow beneath our heads. He stared ahead into my eyes, giving me a few minutes to collect myself before he gave me a response. “Look at me, Mickey.” The tone in his face made it clear how sincere he was. “You and Mandy are back in a safe place where you both belong, okay? Your dad’s not in the house. He’s not gonna come through that front door downstairs, and he’s sure as shit not coming through this bedroom door to hit you and ruin your sleep.”

His hands fell to my sides, Ian pulling me a little closer to him, and I scooted as close to him as I could. “I’ve got you, Mick. I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.” As uncertain as I was about the possibility of Dad coming back here for me and my sister, I nodded. I wanted to believe everything Ian was saying, because I actually love this safe environment that the Gallaghers are providing us, and I especially love that this guy right here plans to be with me, whatever it takes.

He wiped a couple of more tears off my face before he signed to me, “you want me to tell you a story?” I frowned, and then that dopey smile appeared on his face. “I’ve been looking at the ASL book some more the day you guys came back. Maybe it could help with the nightmares.” And if that didn’t further remind me of Mama when I was a toddler, I didn’t know what did.

For the past eight minutes, Ian was telling this story about a dog that didn’t have hind legs – fucking weird, but it’s _Ian_ weird. Anyway, the owner of the dog neglected him for the longest time – approximately a week – because he didn’t like the way the dog looked. The dog liked the owner, but whenever the dog asked to play with him, the owner would always push him away. Eventually, the dog gave up and left the house, searching for some new person to play with. Literally everyone reacted to the dog the same way its owner did – fucking pricks – and the dog started going through some sort of depression.

Then one day, this little boy discharged from the hospital was wheeling out of the building in his wheelchair when he saw the dog, immediately wanting to take it home. The boy’s mother said that the dog might have an owner, but the boy didn’t really give a rat’s ass. Since that day, the boy fed him and played with him as much as he could. The original owner found his dog in the boy’s yard one afternoon and asked for it back, but the dog was scared of him at this point and didn’t want to leave. The boy was shouting and shit in the owner’s face about how he never cared about the dog before when it was starving its little fucking tail off, and that somehow pissed the owner off enough to make him leave. Ass clown.

My fucking eyes started watering again. Ian was a kick-ass storyteller. I don’t even know if anyone told him that shit. He just fucking amazes me with that goddamn imagination of his.

I related to that goddamn dog, now that I think about it. We’re both different from everyone around us, and a lot of people reject us _because_ we’re different. I’ve always hated being different since I was first deaf. Being deaf in the Milkovich household was worse considering that Dad was a raging alcoholic with a bad temper, my little sister was always in need of protection that I could only provide so much of, my brothers were either barely around or getting on Dad’s good side, and the one person in my life that cared about me so much was taken from me. Sure, I don’t have missing limbs like the dog from the story, but we both very well have something taken from us.

Until we found something – _someone_ – that cared for us again, that _loved_ us.

Ian and I were still a secret from the world outside of these blankets, but I’d keep him for as long as it would take. He can read me like a goddamn book, and this was only the first couple of chapters in this little novel we have going together. Plot’s really fucking messy right now with Dad running around the South Side with cops on his tail, but I’m only hoping that we won’t have to deal with him anymore so it could get better.

He was still signing the last bit of the story, but not even a second after he finished, I leaned closer to him and put a kiss on his lips. Normally Ian would be the one to initiate that type of shit, but I really thought I would lose him at some point. Dad and his side guys kinda beat me up pretty bad – the bruise under my fucking eye still hurts when I touch it – and had Mandy not gotten herself out and freed the both of us out of that shit hole, we probably would have been left for dead with no one to look for us.

Not saying that no one was looking or anything; I mean, Fiona and Ian are pretty persistent when it comes to us.

I let go of his lips, and then it was just the two of us looking at each other like little kids. Ian smiled – fuck, he has a wicked smile – and ran a hand through my hair before giving me another kiss. This one lasted about a minute and a half longer than the previous one, and the slower we went, the sleepier I got.

“Tired.” Ian seemed to get the hint and turned off the flashlight, setting it on the night stand before I shut my eyes and dozed off on the pillow.

* * *

I woke up at around 5:50 in the morning, I realized as I wiped the sleep out of my eyes and allowed my eyes to adjust. How I managed to do that, I wasn’t really sure. Before breakfast, I tend to go out on a morning run and get my energy up, so it’s not too much of a surprise to me, but either way, my alarm clock didn’t even go off yet.

Mickey was asleep next to me, and it was definitely a sight for sore eyes. He looked very peaceful when he was asleep – and a bit younger, too, I might add. All of the stress marks on his forehead appeared non-existent, and the right side of his cheek was cuddled into the pillow that was holding up his head. I watched the rise and fall of his chest, shoulders, and back as he snored lightly. I paid attention to literally every detail and got fascinated with each one.

Sleeping Mickey Milkovich was really cute, if you asked me.

I had to prepare for my morning run in a few minutes, but I didn’t want to leave Mickey behind and have him wondering where I went. My eyes darted around the room, aware of the fact that Lip, Carl, or Liam could wake up if I made a noise or gave them any signal that would snap them out of their sleep.

As the coast got clearer, I gently scooted closer to Mickey and left a lingering kiss on his lips. A quiet groan escaped his lips, probably out of irritation or tiredness. I couldn’t help but laugh at the sound Mickey made. With the exception of the times we would have sex, he didn’t make too many noises – maybe a laugh or a grunt here and there. Maybe he just needed to be a little more comfortable with being here in the Gallagher house after enduring shit with his father, is all.

I wanted to test the waters and bit, so I slowly brought my right hand down underneath the sheets and allowed my fingers to ghost above Mickey’s borrowed pajama pants. Three of my fingers touched the skin on his waist, and he seemed to have stirred a bit in his sleep. Finally, I lifted the band of his pajama pants and his boxers, sliding my hand down to Mickey’s length and giving him a soft squeeze.

Mickey softly moaned at the contact, and a smile creeped on his face. His face was also a bright red, and all of that alone made me smile. My thumb grazed over Mickey’s dick, and his head moved back a bit, literally balls deep in pleasure. I started off slowly so he wouldn’t be hit automatically with full-force energy that would completely wake him up. As my fingers wrapped around his dick, and my thumb reached the tip, Mickey’s legs began to move, granting me more access.

An advantage and a disadvantage to having sex with Mickey – or just getting the least bit intimate with him like this – was how loud he was. He was a moaner, and apparently a groaner, during sex, despite the fact that he’s never been that vocal outside of all of that. In the van, there wasn’t much of a problem with it since there was just the two of us, with the others inside the house, and we had the freedom to be as loud as we wanted to. Now, though, we were in a room with three other people who could potentially wake up and find out what we were up to. Never mind that our relationship was a secret, but my brothers could catch on to what we were doing and haunt me about it until I moved out the house.

Or maybe I would haunt _them_ until I moved out of the house. Not sure. Lip leaves for college before I do, so he won’t have to worry about walking in on his younger brother getting nasty with a Milkovich.

I ran my hand up and down Mickey’s member once, going as slowly as I could, when I heard Mickey groan a little louder than previously. When he felt my hand on his mouth, his eyelids cracked open, his innocent blue eyes staring up at me. I didn’t want to break the contact we had going on here, so I just pointed to Lip, Carl, and Liam with my left hand and placed the index finger over my own lips. I didn’t have to explain myself any further, for Mickey seemed to understand.

So I kept going, watching Mickey tentatively. His upper teeth were biting down ferociously on his bottom lip as he tried his hardest to stay quiet. His face was in concentration mode as I squeezed and stroked, and I watched him adjust his legs some more, his right thigh resting over my left leg.

About a couple minutes or so after that, and Mickey released a loud moan. I swore, for a moment, someone moved in the beds across the room from us – most likely Carl since it was closer to our side. Turning back towards Mickey, I put my index finger in front of my lips again. He nodded in my direction, but his mouth was agape, and he was literally falling apart beneath me. I could even feel his leg shake on top of mine, and I knew that he was close to reaching a climax.

My thumb slowly and continuously flicked over the slit for the past few minutes, and my hand had gotten wet from all of the precome Mickey was leaking. Mickey’s eyes shut, followed by a ball of his right hand onto one of the sheets, and he was panting with every stroke I provided.

Two of my fingers reached underneath Mickey’s length to graze over his balls for a brief second, and Mickey’s jaw dropped again, letting out a loud whine. I covered his mouth with my free hand before my brothers were able to detect a sound. Mickey’s entire load had spilled into his pants and on my hand as I did so, but I was more focused on the chances of my brothers waking up and seeing us.

Lucky for us, they were still asleep, and I released the tension in my shoulders with one breath.

When I let my hand drop from Mickey’s mouth, he smiled in bliss and satisfaction, his eyelids still closed. His eyebrows relaxed on his forehead, and the frown marks went away again. I smiled and watched as he caught his breath. I loved making Mickey feel good, not just because he deserves it, and he definitely does, but also because he looks so content after sex.

Even if this was just a handjob.

His eyes opened as I hovered over him, the smile growing on his face as I leaned down to give him a kiss again. Our lips touched each other’s for the next twenty seconds before I let go again, earning a pout from Mickey. Not too long after, his eyes shifted down to the covers and picked them up, observing the stain in his pants from all of the come.

I sheepishly chuckled and signed with my dry hand, “sorry.”

He didn’t seem to mind, though, because he leaned in for another short kiss before signing back. “Morning, asshole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't write this story and not have an angsty sleepover-type chapter with a somewhat fluffy and pretty sexy ending. ;)


	35. How Do You Feel Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mandy was supposed to be getting the abortion soon, according to some shit she told me about a judicial bypass and going to court and all of that. She didn’t show any signs of nervousness; actually, she looked like she didn’t give two shits about the abortion. Then again, the Milkovich kids were taught to not express emotions that made us look weak, so I dismissed my previous thoughts. Still, I felt for my sister. This shouldn’t have happened to her, and it makes me feel awful that I didn’t fucking do anything about this shit the night it happened. Dad could have gotten arrested for sexual assault, and Mandy would have gotten rid of the fetus a long time ago."

I’m not really fucking sure how Ian has the energy to wake up so early in the morning, but he does. I’m not those kinds of people who like getting up at the ass crack of dawn, ready to start their day and shit. Leave me alone until about ten or eleven – maybe noon if I’m extremely lazy – and I’m all good.

Gallagher had a way of drifting me away from sleep, though, and in a good way, for the most part. We don’t usually do the morning sex thing – or the handjob thing, either, but I’ll admit felt so fucking good this morning, especially. Ian suggested that we both take a shower together before anyone in the house woke up – usually the first person to do so would be Fiona. Plus, he had that usual morning run and shit. He invited me one time, and I swear I felt my eyes doing somersaults in my damn sockets.

Truth is, though, I never got tired of Ian Gallagher. Not even for a second. Sure, I still didn’t like how he woke me up so damn early for no reason, like I have somewhere to be or some shit, but it gave us the advantage of doing that intimate stuff when the rest of the household was oblivious to it. And I’m not gonna lie; I have been getting a little closer to the Gallaghers aside from Ian – specifically Debbie and maybe Fiona, at times – but I still wasn’t ready to come out just yet. With Dad still out there, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be.

For the most part, we just washed each other up for the first few minutes we’ve been out of bed. After waking up and having nearly the biggest orgasm of the week, I kinda wanted to take it a little further than that, but Ian had his run to do and shit. Plus, I don’t think people wear condoms under the shower head, and neither one of us were tested to go bareback. This felt even better, though. It was the two of us releasing the tension from our broke-ass backs after sharing a single bed for the night and getting absorbed in shower steam and hot water.

Sounds stupid or whatever, but it’s the truth.

We were in there for about fifteen minutes – or maybe twenty-five, since Ian wanted to have a fucking make-out session in there – and got out later on, drying each other off and wrapping the towels around our waists. Ian checked the hallway to make sure the coast was clear before signing to me, telling me that he would get some clothes for me to put on. We dressed quickly, though, because Ian told me that Lip was about to exit the bedroom any moment to take a piss.

My stomach was rumbling like a bitch. I couldn’t hear it, but I most definitely felt it. I could even see Ian smirking from the corner of my eye and flipped him the bird. He offered to make breakfast for me and the rest of the family before he went out to run. A part of me suggested against it because the food would just get cold by the time everyone else was awake, but my stomach most definitely didn’t agree with that.

That’s how Ian started preparing banana pancakes, which turned out to be my personal favorite after staying in the Gallagher house for so long. If it weren’t for the rest of the Gallaghers in the household, I woud have eaten, like, half of the fucking batch.

Jesus, I’m starting to act like a damn binge-eater.

Ian was flipping the pancakes on their other sides when Fiona came downstairs digging the heel of her hand into her eye, an impressed look on her face as she watched Ian make breakfast for the day. They were having some kind of conversation that I couldn’t understand too well, so I just pulled out my phone at random.

Ian sent so many goddamn text messages the day Mandy and I got kidnapped. A part of me wanted to delete them; even the smallest recognition of that memory is unbearable. I started to pull up the option to delete the texts, my fingers suddenly not knowing how to function, before I felt someone’s presence behind me.

“Go ahead. I did it on my phone, too.” Ian signed without even questioning my motives.

That text thread got deleted within a couple of seconds, and Ian was sitting in the chair right next to me. Fiona took over in front of the burners, watching as the pancakes turned golden and fluffy. I almost couldn’t register the flash from Ian’s own cell phone that appeared in my fucking face.

“What the fuck?” I signed, annoyed. Ian just laughed.

“You look cute when you’re curious.” Ian signed back, clearly aware of one other person in the room.

“Fuck off. And don’t let Fiona see that shit.”

Ian frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want people around here knowing that you have some fuckin’ fetish over the stupid pictures of me that you take on your phone.”

“She was going to need a photo of you and Mandy for the police sooner or later.”

“But we got out, okay? They don’t need that shit anymore. We’re fine.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, still feeling Ian’s eyes on me, and I added, “just fucking drop it.”

From the holes being burned on the side of my head, I could tell that Ian didn’t want to drop it. We developed this really intense relationship between each other, and God forbid, he wants more to it than just fucking in the van and watching stupid YouTube videos. He wants other people to know about us, although I thought we made it clear that I don’t want that right now, not when the possibility of running into Dad somewhere along the line is on the table.

I really like Ian – like, a lot – don’t get me wrong; but it’s not safe in the South Side of Chicago to be spitting that type of shit out. I’ll be one of the many dead corpses on these streets that had to suffer through a beating for being gay.

Hell, and if that’s not bad enough, I’m a fucking bottom, too, even if I’ve only been with Ian. Sometimes I imagine my so-called punishment for being a “faggy bottom”, as he would state it. It’s probably worse than being gay and a top, but Dad doesn’t approve of either scenario, so what does it even fucking matter?

Ian was out of his seat moments before Fiona came to the table with a plate of pancakes. He was either going out for his morning run or trying to ignore me after the awkward tension that was shared between us, and I wouldn’t be surprised at all if it was the latter.

Fiona placed a plate of pancakes in front of me, along with the syrup and butter, and I thanked her before digging into my food. Fiona worked so hard her damn self, so sign language was still an issue with her; however, she said she’s been catching up with Debbie, occasionally.

About a couple of minutes later, I was on the second pancake when the Gallagher dad came strolling into the kitchen. Fiona was preparing some more pancakes for everyone else, and maybe some extras for the next day, when she shot Frank a side glare. I don’t blame her, either; after the stories Ian told me about him previously, he was not one to give a good morning salute to.

Frank was seconds away from grabbing some freshly-made pancakes off the aluminum pan next to Fiona before his daughter whacked her with the spatula. Apparently, there’s still beef between Frank and the rest of the family, but I’m not exactly sure what it was, if there were any specifics to it other than what I’ve been told.

I turned back to my own plate of pancakes, cutting up the second pancake up so I could eat it better when I felt a presence near me. Frank’s hand reached for my plate of pancakes and took it in one swipe. In that moment, I wasn’t sure if a piece of Frank’s brain had been chipped off – or if his whole brain was missing altogether – or he’s on some pretty heavy shit, but he had the fucking nerve to touch my food.

He didn’t seem to falter when I stood up out of my chair, snatched the plate out of his hand, and placed it back on the table where it was. The fucker smelled like dirt, rum, and grass. Fucking gross. His lips began to move, forming sentences that I couldn’t comprehend. Still, my facial expression remained the same: stone cold. Neither one of us did anything for a couple of seconds. At one point, he seemed to have taken the hint that I was deaf; however, that didn’t stop him from making fun of me. This time I knew what he was saying, but only because he was talking like I was some kind of fucking retard.

“Nice. To. Have. Another. Freeloader. Here. In. My. House.” Frank started off, and I was so close to punching him in the fucking nose. “Help. Yourself. To. The. Phone. To. Call. A. Motel.”

His head diverted from me to Fiona, the latter getting sick and tired of Frank’s bullshit. Literally the only good thing about being deaf is not having to hear how annoying as someone like Frank really was. Sometimes I felt bad for Fiona and the rest of the Gallaghers having to deal with Frank.

A while later, Lip and Debbie were coming downstairs with Liam in tow to the smell of breakfast in the kitchen. Debbie gave me a simplistic smile before signing, “Morning Mick.” Usually Ian and Mandy gave me that nickname – and if anyone else did, I didn’t really notice – but I’ve grown to appreciate the youngest female Gallagher, so I didn’t mind too much.

Ian came back from his run shortly after, covered in a shit ton of sweat. Even with the aroma of the pancakes in the air, Ian’s body sweat was still recognizable. Not sure how the kid does it, but he does it fuckin’ well.

Unfortunately, for me, he’s not looking at me. He’s probably still upset about what I said earlier. Maybe a bit of the run was his method of getting his anger down or something. Whatever it was, though, it was eating at my brain and making me go nuts.

Fiona placed plates in front of Lip and Debbie before bringing a smaller plate for Liam. Mandy made her way downstairs moments after, wiping the sleep from her eyes and observing the scene before her. When she caught sight of me, she signed, “mornin’ asshole.” At that, I just flipped her off.

Mandy was supposed to be getting the abortion soon, according to some shit she told me about a judicial bypass and going to court and all of that. She didn’t show any signs of nervousness; actually, she looked like she didn’t give two shits about the abortion. Then again, the Milkovich kids were taught to not express emotions that made us look weak, so I dismissed my previous thoughts. Still, I felt for my sister. This shouldn’t have happened to her, and it makes me feel awful that I didn’t fucking do anything about this shit the night it happened. Dad could have gotten arrested for sexual assault, and Mandy would have gotten rid of the fetus a long time ago.

I felt a hand on my wrists as I was drowning in my own thoughts, and I turned my head and faced Debbie. She signed to me, “are you feeling better?” That was a tricky question to answer at the moment. Between the pang of regret from getting mad at Ian earlier, Mandy’s abortion, and Dad on the lose, there was a lot of stuff on my plate – figuratively, of course – and the night the kidnapping happened still frightened me a bit sometimes. I mean, I feel physically better now that the wounds have healed, but there were still bits and pieces left to sweep up.

Debbie nodded sympathetically following my nod, but she didn’t address the situation any further, which I secretly appreciated. “I bet you’re lucky to not have to go to school,” she signed, poking her bottom lip out as she complained. “The girls there are such bitches.”

“They do anything to you?”

She poked at one of her pancakes with her fork. “One of them was talking about me in the hallway one time, and I punched her in the face after school.” I was genuinely shocked to find out about this kind of shit, yet she shrugged it off like it was nothing. “She had it coming. You can’t trust anyone anymore when their true colors come out.”

Usually I would hear something like that come from Mandy. Debbie was one of the most intelligent Gallaghers under this roof – maybe not book smart like Lip was, but she was smart in her own right. Then again, I don’t know too much about other people because other than Mandy and the Gallaghers, I don’t interact with anyone, really. Once again, the advantage of having a hearing disability came into play. There’s no light way of putting my disability, for the most part, but a shred of me feels a bit grateful. I already have difficulty with criticism when it comes to people talking about the way I speak, but I’ll be damned if I were to hear said criticism out loud.

That was one thing I didn’t have to worry about for the rest of my life.

Mandy came to sit on my right side where Ian once occupied, placing her plate of food in front of her. I broke the conversation between me and Debbie in favor of talking to my sister. “You gettin’ the abortion yet?”

“Fiona’s taking me to the hospital today.” Her face was yet to show any emotions – and this is the part where I feel bad that I can’t hear her voice, because I know she’s feeling very low about this type of shit – but I knew deep down that she was freakin’ the fuck out.

“You okay?” Whatever prompted me to ask that, I wasn’t sure, though I was expecting a certain response.

“Peachy keen. Now shut the fuck up.” Boom, there it was.

Out of nowhere, Fiona came by the table and placed an empty tissue box at the center of the surface. When I looked up at her, it looked like she was saying something along the lines of _electric_ or some shit. Lip and Ian then started pulling out random dollar bills from their pockets to place into the box. The Gallaghers had to pay the electricity bill today.

I looked around for a moment, feeling left out in that I didn’t have any money to contribute. How the fuck do you expect a non-Gallagher with a hearing condition and no job to contribute in the first place?

Debbie tapped me on the shoulder, and I whirled my head in her direction. She signed, “you don’t have to pay anything. You’re our guests.”

“Don’t you guys need the money for electricity and shit?”

“We have our ways.” As much as I wanted to believe her, a part of me still wanted to help, even if I was their fucking guest.

Mandy threw out a five-dollar bill into the tissue box, and Ian noticed it from afar. I looked closely at his lips as he spoke. “Don’t you need the money, Mands?”

“I get a few tips here and there,” Mandy spoke and signed at the same time. “It’s fine.” Mandy sure did work her ass off ever since she got that job. People like Fiona and Ian claim that it wasn’t our fault for crashing here, getting the window broken, and having three maniac assholes trespass on the Gallagher property; lately, though, Mandy still felt the need to repay for everything that’s happened. And let’s be honest: we could have gone anywhere, to anyone, for help, but we didn’t know any relatives that would take us in. If there were relatives here that would help us, it was a slim chance that they would actually accept the challenge.

Ian’s eyes fell upon mine for a couple of seconds before he refocused and sat in the seat next to Mandy’s. Carl came downstairs moments later, and Fiona seemed to be convincing him to get ready for school and all that shit. I’m not exactly sure if he had the same experience with school as Debbie or even Ian and Lip, but if it was anything like how Debbie described it, then I probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it.

Frank came back into the kitchen from the living room, searching the countertops for some food. However, after Fiona grabbed herself a plate of pancakes, along with the orange juice for everyone, there was nothing but a pan of crumbs at the stove. He looked frustrated as he started rummaging through things in the fridge before taking out a raw egg and a slice of bread, making an attempt to put the two together and cook them on the frying pan.

Nobody in this household has love for Frank, but I don’t blame them. Shitty fathers come in different shades, and a shitty shade of anything is never preferred.

* * *

Mickey had been onto me this morning about the abortion, and my mind has been circling around the look on his face for the past hour or two. I already felt as if I embarrassed myself in front of a herd of Gallaghers before, and I didn’t want that happening again.

Truth is, though, that I really am nervous about the abortion. Doctors and stuff told me the procedures and all of that since the first day I came to the hospital, so I kind of know what to expect, but that doesn’t calm me down any further.

I still can’t believe there’s an actual fetus inside of me – one that could have potentially been a baby if I hadn’t gone through with the abortion. That wasn’t an option, though, for a) neither I nor Mickey nor the Gallaghers have enough money to support another baby, and b) even if we did, I didn’t want to have a baby born out of hatred and irresponsibility, and those were all of Dad’s traits inside a tiny infant soul. A part of me wonders whether Dad regrets what he did or not after I told him about it, but going off of what he said to me the day Mickey and I got kidnapped, it doesn’t seem likely.

I didn’t have to go to school for the rest of this week, for the recovery process takes a few weeks after the actual abortion is complete. During that time, I would most likely be hanging out with Mickey or babysitting Liam. Fiona told me that she would have to call either Vee or their other neighbor, Sheila, to watch us just in case another home invasion occurs in the Gallagher house. Getting treated like a ten-year-old until I fully recovered was not a part of the plan at all, in my opinion, but after what happened the day the window in the kitchen broke, and Mickey got severly beaten and threatened, I didn’t want to take any risks.

Fiona, Mickey, Liam, and I were in the waiting area of the clinic for the past five minutes. The only other people here with us besides the employees were two blonde women – one of them sporting a nasty, purple bruise under her eye – and some bald guy sitting next to them with tattoos on his left arm. He’s probably the boyfriend or the husband or whatever. Fucking wife beater.

I pulled out my cell phone – thank God the police were able to get our phones back – and started texting Ian. About three minutes ago, he sent a message asking me if I was feeling alright about the abortion, and I sent him a confirmation back, along with details about the recovery – but not too many that would gross him out during class.

Liam was playing with one of the trucks near the play area, and he brought it over and placed it on my lap. “Mandy,” he called in his sweet, innocent voice. In a world full of chaos and other random bullshit, Liam was just a little pocket of sunshine that was too good for it all. He would never survive the Milkovich household; hell, Dad would probably beat him up and shout racist slurs in his face. Maybe one day when I really have a baby, I can have a sweet little child like Liam.

That’s assuming that I can get Mickey and myself out of the South Side and find someplace better to live.

Liam and I played with the truck for a couple of minutes before I heard a woman call my name. “Mandy Milkovich?” Fiona, Mickey, and I all stood up at the same time, Fiona taking the truck from Liam and picking him up off the ground.

The walk down the hallway was as nerve-wracking as the abortion itself. My heart was beating against my rib cage, and one of my hands shook violently. I wanted this to be over with, but all of this is new to me, and I’m not sure what’s gonna happen to me next after all of this is done.

“Okay, Mandy,” the blonde woman told me, placing her clipboard on the desk. “I’m going to need for you to step out of your shoes so we can get your height and your weight. After that, I’m going to need your blood pressure and other necessary vitals.”

I kicked my shoes off and removed my sweater before I followed the doctor out of the room towards the scale. She took all of my measurements as I stared straight ahead, trying to remain calm and take a few silent deep breaths. Any minute now, the doctors were going to send me into a room where my legs would be spread open, and they would end up using different tools or whatever to get the fetus out of my womb. It was for the best, but the aftermath is what I dreaded the most.

We returned to the room once my height and weight was recorded. Mickey was leaning up against the wall, biting down on his bottom lip when he saw me. He was worried about me as much as I was about myself. Mickey’s my older brother; he’s always looking out for me, and it always means so much to me. The more I looked at his face, the more I thought about the night he found me in my bed, with Dad right next to me, passed out from the alcohol in his system. Every day, I prayed that the image would go away, but it always finds a way to come back to me.

The blonde doctor left us alone, and I changed into the hospital gown behind the curtain so Mickey, Fiona, and Liam wouldn’t see. Ever since the rape happened, I didn’t feel so confident about the way I looked unclothed. Before, I didn’t give a shit about the way I looked. Now I felt gross, disgusting, wrong. Dad made me feel all of those things. I can’t even take my shirt off without feeling older man hands touching my boobs. I’ve dated guys who have touched me in that way, but at least they were around my age – and conscious, too, I might add. Dad was the complete opposite. I wasn’t even sure if Dad was even a real dad or not, especially after the day he violated me.

We waited for a few minutes in the room for Dr. Arnold to arrive. Liam was falling asleep on Fiona’s lap, and Fiona and Mickey had matching looks of concern on their face. Fiona had a brochure in her hands to keep her in partial company, but her thoughts were with me for the most part. Mickey didn’t have anything to distract himself for what’s to come, and I felt anxious just looking at my brother like that.

“Fiona.” My voice cracked a little bit – not because I was going to cry or anything, but because I really had no way of controlling my inner emotions. The eldest Gallagher looked up at me at the sound of my voice. “Have you, um…” I paused for a moment. “Have you ever…done _this_ before?”

She shook her head unfortunately. “Never gotten pregnant before.” Of course she hasn’t; she has to take care of five other Gallaghers up until Liam is on his own, and that won’t be for another ten plus years. “But I can tell you that you’re doing the right thing here, Mandy. You’re still young and in high school, and I know for sure that your Dad, who got you into this situation in the first place, is not going to be all too supportive or forgiving about your opinions or your choices. Trust me, it’s for the best. Just remember that.”

I nodded, processing her words into my head. Dad never said he even wanted anymore kids; the irony in all of this, though, is that he got his youngest kid pregnant against her will and shows no remorse over that. So he can go fuck himself on that regard. Another part of me is also wondering what would happen if, in another world, Dad actually gave a shit about me. Maybe he wouldn’t have raped me to begin with. Maybe he wouldn’t have beat his two youngest kids and starved them once they returned from their visits from the Gallagher house. Maybe Mickey wouldn’t be deaf or struggling to communicate with other people.

All of that was in a perfect world neither I nor Mickey would even have.

Dr. Arnold entered the room and asked us general questions before she stated that it was time for the abortion to begin. “Ms. Gallagher, you three can wait outside in the waiting area until the process is complete, and we’ll call you back in when we’re ready.”

Fiona picked Liam back up and started to head towards the door when she turned around and noticed Mickey still against the wall by the window. “Mickey?” she called, and I went over to place a hand on his arm to grab his attention. “Come on, sweetheart. We’re gonna go wait in the lobby, okay?”

I signed Fiona’s words back to him, and there was an accelerated rise and fall of Mickey’s chest following afterwards. He didn’t want to leave me alone, and I didn’t want him to go, either. I held on to the fact that, in a while, the baby will be gone, and Mickey and I won’t have to worry about carrying a burden on our shoulders any longer. I wanted Mickey’s mind set to be focused on the same concept, and maybe then, he won’t be so worried about the abortion any longer.

“I’m gonna be fine, Mick.” I assured him. “It’ll be over before we know it…and then we can try and move on, alright?”

Mickey’s shoulders seemed to relax a bit, which was a relief on my end, and I went to embrace him in a tight hug. Back at home, we didn’t do this so often because we were raised into thinking that affection was for pussies. We didn’t have a good influence back at home, but we were with the Gallaghers now, and every opportunity was open for us to try.

I let go of Mickey after a few seconds, and Fiona brought him and Liam out of the room. Before I knew it, I was lying on my back on the cot, waiting for the hard part to be over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandy's response to Mickey's question at the breakfast table was kind of OOC, I'll admit, but I interpreted it as her being over-stressed about heading to the hospital and all that stuff.
> 
> Anyways, I apologize for the wait on this chapter. I'm busting my ass for these good grades in my classes, and two of them require major essays, so I might not be on here as frequently as I used to (maybe to read other people's stories, but still). I hope you guys liked this chapter. Happy reading.


	36. Respect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If I had any feeling about Kash back when we were still fucking each other in the storage unit of the Kash and Grab, none of that matters anymore. Mickey’s with me, and I’m with him. Kash needs to realize that."

The school day was pretty bland without Mandy being there. A fight broke out around lunch time, albeit a really shitty one between a guy on the basketball team and someone from my Chemistry class, but other than that, nothing else happened. I improved in some of my classes, too, but that was because I didn’t rely so much on cheating this time around and actually read the text in my books several times.

My English teacher had given us this book to read a while ago for the essay we were supposed to write as our final paper. For the paper, we were supposed to analyze a few of the scenes and back up information with quotes from the book. In addition, we had to provide our opinion of the book and whether or not we would recommend it to someone.

In the story, there was this girl who lived by a little forest area, and in said area, she found a secret pond that was hidden off from basically everything else. She used that little forest area as her safe place whenever she felt unsafe or upset. She was an only child, and her father was always out cheating on his wife with other women. The mother didn’t have a job, and she typically got drunk or extremely emotional, which led to her abusing her daughter in any which way possible. There were even cases where the father abused them both. The parents took the girl out of school for a little while, and the girl barely had the opportunity to see her classmates whom she became friends with. And it’s also not any better that the parents don’t believe in the girl’s dreams, for she wanted to be an artist in New York but, according to her father, they don’t pay her enough and she would suck at it anyway.

A part of me didn’t want to write this damn essay, primarily because it hit so close to home whenever I thought about Mandy getting raped and Mickey being physically abused for being different, and my senses flared up every time I recalled the piece of shit yelling at his own kids. But this was for a grade, and if I wanted to attempt to actually pass, I didn’t have much of a choice.

Lip and his girlfriend were in the hallway at some point after lunch. They seemed to have been arguing back and forth about college-related stuff, and she seemed to have wanted to break things off with him. I didn’t want to eavesdrop too much into their conversation, but after a couple of smoke breaks outside on the Gallagher porch, I remembered Lip talking about the rejection letters he received from some of the schools that his girlfriend helped him apply to. Some of the schools, he didn’t even remember applying to. In fact, the only ones he even considered was University of Chicago and Roosevelt University. For someone like Lip, I expected him to apply to schools out of the city since he wanted to leave Chicago so bad; unfortunately, he’s still a Gallagher, and we barely have enough money for a train ticket across the border to Indiana.

The Kash and Grab wasn’t that busy today, and I’m supposed to get my next paycheck tonight. So for the most part, I just hung around and helped Kash and Linda stock the shelves. Jesus, the Pringles are selling like hot cakes, aren’t they?

Or are they even _selling_?

Every time I would look in Kash’s general direction, he would either have a disappointed look on his face, or he would just be bored and staring at me for longer than I wanted him to. I don’t really get his appeal anymore; after all, I thought I made it clear that we were breaking things off once I told him about my boyfriend. He doesn’t really know that it’s Mickey, but he’s definitely implied.

He was dealing with a customer’s purchase at the front desk, so that kind of distracted him for at least a minute while I placed the soup cans on the shelves. Around that time, Lip came in the store and stood next to me, playing around with a mustard container. “Mandy came home today,” he stated casually.

“You went home?”

“Fiona helped her in bed and shit before she called Sheila over to keep an eye on her, Liam, and Mickey,” Lip replied. His voice was monotone, for the most part. He must have had his girlfriend still on his mind. It’s actually a shame that she and Lip broke up; I didn’t see her too often in the Gallagher house, except when she visited during spring break, but this relationship was the one with the most potential for Lip.

I didn’t want to ask him about it right now, just in case he was still feeling affected by it. So I asked him, “you just hanging out?”

He shrugged. “Pretty much. You need some help?”

There was still stuff in the back that needed to be placed on their shelves, despite the fact that I still had a couple of hours left of my shift, but a little help while Kash was at the machine and Linda tending to her kids didn’t sound like a bad idea. “You think you can handle the body care products in the back of the store?”

“Yeah, man.”

“They’re in the box next to the packages of bagged salad.”

Lip chuckled. “Neat combination.” I laughed in response as he made his way to the storage room, leaving me to shelf the rest of the canned soup. It wasn’t until I reached the last three cans of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup that I felt a presence behind me. It couldn’t have been Lip since he just left seconds ago, and there was a lot of stuff in the boxes for him to carry.

When I turned my head, I saw Kash hovering above me. The customer he was talking to previously had left, giving him every reason to leave the desk and carry on a conversation. “Things going well at home, Ian?” The question felt random when asked, and I didn’t know whether to respond or leave him hanging.

“Uh, yeah.” I kept my eyes on the soup cans, putting all of the Campbell cans in the right area before moving on to the next brand.

“Didn’t seem that way with Lip. He okay?”

“He’s fine. Just tired of school and shit, that’s all.” I lied.

Kash didn’t move from his spot, and my skin started to crawl. I shouldn’t be this worried about having the man around since I’ve worked with him for a long time, but ever since I told him about my current relationship, he’s always been on my ass – figuratively and, sometimes, literally.

Speaking of literally, my right eye went to its corner for two seconds, and I could see him looking down at my ass. The store had gotten some new security cameras a while ago, and I secretly prayed that Linda was monitoring it somehow.

“What do you want, Kash?” I asked out of annoyance.

“It’s just…well – you’ve been pretty distant lately. Linda’s been asking where you’ve been and all, and the store got robbed the couple of times you didn’t show up –“

“That’s bullshit.” I didn’t want to hear anymore of Kash’s excuses. He wanted me, and he and I both already knew this fact. He was jealous of what my secret boyfriend had, and I never even told him his name, what he looked like, how old he was compared to Kash, or any other small details.

Before I found out Mickey and Mandy even existed, I was mainly focused on physical contact, whether in a relationship or not. It’s happened before with Kash and guys at school, and none of them were a big deal to me. I’ll admit that I was just like some of those horny teenagers in high school who sought out for sex and pleasure, and all of that stuff felt good when I got it.

Now it’s been about two months – maybe a little longer – since I met Mickey and Mandy. They’ve been through so much shit in the past few years of their lives, and knowing their parents and the situations they ended up in, it made me feel for them so much more. Specifically with Mickey, I felt as if it’s my duty to make sure he feels safe and happy. Why not? He fucking deserves it. And this time around, I want more than physical contact. I want Mickey and I to open up to each other about stuff. I want to do the cheesy dating thing. I want us to share emotions, no matter whether or not Mickey thinks it’s lame or whatever.

If I had any feeling about Kash back when we were still fucking each other in the storage unit of the Kash and Grab, none of that matters anymore. Mickey’s with me, and I’m with him. Kash needs to realize that.

Kash had the nerve to fucking frown at me at my outburst, too. “Ian, what are you –“

“If this was about the store, then you would have had the balls to come up to me and talk about what was going on before now.” I scoffed. “Like, why now, Kash? They’ve been taking more shit out of here, and you’re just telling me now?”

“Ian, please –“

“Linda’s been taking care of it.” I interrupted again with a stern nod. “She’s been handling the steering wheel all this time – in the store, in your relationship, in your family. I bet you didn’t give two shits about these security cameras before now, didn’t you?” He tried to speak, but I just continued.

“What even is this?” I gestured between the two of us. “This doesn’t seem like we’re anything, to be perfectly honest, but you make it seem like we are.”

“We’re employees, Ian. Linda hired you to be here.”

“Yeah, of course Linda did. She’s the only reason I have a purpose here, other than the fact that my family has to rely on banana slices and newspaper to survive.”

Kash’s shoulders slumped. “Ian, I’m sorry.”

He tried to bend down and get to my level, but I stood up and backed away from him. “Don’t touch me. Get away from me.”

“Just hear me out.”

“Leave me the fuck alone!” Kash’s hands were on my upper arms, and in that moment, I knew that I wanted to punch his sorry ass face in.

Well, I tried to anyway, before Lip came from the back of the store and pitched in. “What the fuck is the matter with you?” he called to the older man in front of me, tugging him away from me and throwing a punch to his jaw. The two of them started to fight, Lip clearly winning with all of the blows to the face he was giving, but I started to step back in and separate them.

“Lip, fucking stop!”

The fact that there were two other customers in the store with us wasn’t even the embarrassing part. Linda had came from the back of the store not even ten seconds later to see the commotion going on between me, my brother, and her husband. “Hey, hey, hey!” she angrily shouted, pushing Lip away and kneeling down beside Kash. “What is going on out here?”

“He had his hands on my little brother!” Lip shouted, trying to move out of my grip so he could punch him in the face once again.

“He did what?”

“It’s not meant to be like that, and he knows it.” No. No, I don’t fucking know it.

“Ian, what the hell does he mean?” Linda asked, referring to Lip’s answer. “Somebody make sense of this now!”

Silence fell upon all of us. I didn’t speak right away, but when I did, my voice got low and vemonous.

“Yeah, Linda. He did.” I started, my eyes burning holes into Kash’s face. “He had a thing for me since I started working here. He wanted to have sex with me, and being the naïve piece of shit I am, I let him. There were consequences to all of this, but I was too focused on wanting someone to care for me in that way. All of it was wrong, and I sincerely apologize, Linda. I realized the mistake I made of even doing that kind of shit to begin with, and I didn’t want any of it anymore. Since I broke things off with him, though, he continued to harass me, and he’s not gonna stop if I don’t do anything about it. So I’m done. I want out.”

Lip had been still next to me for the past two minutes. Linda had a horrified look on her face. Kash looked ashamed of himself, and he had every right to be. This was going to jeopardize the money flow coming into the Gallagher house, but I really hoped Fiona would understand my situation enough to get me away from here as soon as possible.

Silence came over everyone again, and in that moment, I turned around and stormed out of the store, allowing the spring air to hit my face. The tension from my shoulders and back released its hold, and I finally found the courage to walk all the way home.

* * *

Sheila was at the Gallagher house, making something for everyone to eat with some food and supplies she brought over from her house. It’s nice having her around. She’s a big help with Liam whenever Fiona is occupied with work, and her cooking is spectacular. It seems like we’re having her infamous lasagna, green beans, and pot stickers tonight. Pretty interesting.

Debbie, Carl, and Mickey were on the living room couch, watching some random reality show, when Debbie turned her head and caught a glimpse of my face. “Ian,” she greeted, signing for Mickey right next to her. She hopped out of her seat and skipped over to me before scanning the tired and frustrated look on my face and a bit of blood in between my fingers. “Oh, my God. Are you okay?”

I shrugged. “I’m good. You’ve been home for a while?”

“Mandy and Liam are sleeping upstairs, and Fiona’s still at work. Did you see Lip? He left the house by the time I came home from school.”

I didn’t want to talk about Lip at the moment. Actually, I didn’t want to talk about anything related to the store incident because if I do, I know I won’t stop, and it’ll force me to kick the nearest chair in sight, and I might end up hurting someone. “Not yet,” I lied.

“Carl wanted to watch BET,” Debbie spoke, rolling her eyes, “and Sheila wanted us to share the television.” I smiled a bit at Debbie and Carl’s sibling rivalry.

When Debbie left me to check on Sheila in the kitchen, I noticed Mickey standing behind the couch and looking over my features. He could see the blood on my hands before he even reached a step closer to me and got worried. He signed to me, “some crazy fuck do that to you?”

Admittedly, I nodded. “I handled it.”

Mickey didn’t seem to believe it, for his eyes glanced up at mine for a second before he walked over and observed the blood spots. There wasn’t too much blood, though my skin was pale enough to see it from far away. Mickey’s hands gently touched my left hand to observe them a little more. I didn’t want him to know where they came from. He didn’t know about Kash, either, though he’s bound to have seen him when he helped his father rob the store a couple of times before.

Pulling my hand out of his, I signed to him, “It was just a little fight, Mick. No big deal.” Wrong. It was a big fucking deal.

“It ain’t no one that I’m gonna have to crack their skull later on if they fuckin’ touch you again, right?” Mickey cares so much about whoever I got into it with, and he doesn’t give a shit if they got a concussion or not. Sometimes it scares me knowing what Mickey is capable of, especially being a Milkovich, and the idea also makes my heart swell at the same time.

“Trust me; I won’t be seeing them for a very long time.”

My eyes trained behind Mickey’s head, watching Debbie and Sheila prepare the dinner table. Carl was still watching TV and paying no mind to what was going on behind him, which I felt grateful for. At the same time, though, trying to sneak Mickey a kiss with other people oblivious to it was starting to put me down a little. I wanted to kiss Mickey in front of people, let them know that we’re together and all of that stuff. Mickey’s father is still out there, with the cops probably on his ass, and Mickey is scared shitless about the things he could do to him the moment he found out.

Mickey didn’t have to worry. Not one limb of Terry Milkovich’s is gonna make it past this house, and no one in the Gallagher family – Kev, Vee, and Sheila included – will criticize him for who he is. I just want him to realize that more than anything.

I brought a hand up to Mickey’s chin and angled his head, placing a soft kiss to his lips and quickly moving away, heading to the kitchen to wash the blood off my hands and help with dinner.

Fiona and Lip came home a little while later. Where Lip had gone after the confrontation in the store, I wasn’t exactly sure. I think Kash got a punch into Lip’s bottom lip or something, and Lip took the opportunity to put some ice on it. Fiona noticed it the second she stepped into the house, looking at the two of us sitting at the table with Mickey.

“Lip, your bottom lip has a bruise on it,” she stated, walking over and placing a hand on Lip’s chin to lift it and observe the injury.

He shrugged. “Nothing that ice can’t fix, right?” Fiona, at one point, asked him about the incident, but he shook it off, not wanting Fiona to worry about another thing going on around here.

Fiona had invited Sheila to have dinner with us, but Sheila had already prepared something for her and Karen to share, so she left with a heartfelt goodbye. Fiona was seconds away from preparing the plates when she turned towards me. “Hey, do you think I should prepare a plate for Mandy, or is she still out?”

I shrugged. “Probably gonna be out for a little while longer. I took a look at her moments before Lip came home. She was comfortable against the pillow.”

“Serves her right,” Lip chimed in. “The damn fuckwad planted one in her and trashed the rest of her childhood. She deserves a break.” Fiona inched her eyebrows in agreement.

“Did you pay the doctor the money for the abortion yet?”

“We should have enough money for the visits and everything,” Fiona predicted, placing the food down and searching the cupboards for the jar of money she hid away. “With yours and Mandy’s help, I think we swiped ourselves a good amount –“

I frowned at Fiona’s sudden stop. She looked frozen in time for a second, and then she started to panic a bit on the inside. “Oh, my God.”

“Wait, what happened?” Lip asked.

“Fiona?” I asked with concern.

“T-t-the money. There isn’t enough. I counted it before I left for work today. There was supposed to be about forty-five dollars short.”

Confused and a little worried, I got up out of my seat and rounded the counter to look into the jar. “That can’t be right.” When I peeked inside the jar, there was only about eighty dollars left. “Fuck.”

“How did you get that much in a short amount of time anyway?” Lip asked.

“Kev and Vee said they would charge more for drinks at the Alibi and donate some money for Mandy to have for her abortion, and I’ve earned more tips at Patsy’s –“

“And I took a couple of babysitting gigs within the last couple of weeks,” Debbie added, walking back into the kitchen when she sensed something was wrong.

“And weren’t you supposed to get a paycheck at the store today?” Fiona asked me, and that’s when my heart stopped pumping for a moment. I side-eyed Lip for a second and noticed that he was shaking his head at me. If I told Fiona about Kash, then she would flip her shit at me and get even more stressed. She didn’t need all of that on her shoulders.

“Linda said that I would have to wait a little longer after the store got robbed again.” It wasn’t the best lie, but it would have to do.

It was Debbie’s turn to break the silence. “Wait,” she spoke, “so obviously the money was stolen, right?”

Fiona knew what Debbie was trying to say here, and I noticed Fiona’s ears letting out steam within seconds. “Frank.”

“Someone call?” All of our heads turned when the back door opened. Frank entered the kitchen, and he reeked of alcohol and whatever the hell else was on him. When was the last time he took a fucking shower?

No one said anything at first. We were all burning holes into Frank’s face for a good ten seconds – I think Fiona’s was leaving ashes on the kitchen floor, but who knows? It was then that Frank frowned at all of us and asked, “what?”

“You know what the fuck we mean by _what_ , Frank!” Fiona scolded, passing me and Debbie to stand in Frank’s face.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Where the fuck is the money, Frank?”

“What money?”

“The money we were saving for Mandy’s abortion that you stole out of the fucking money jar,” I spoke, holding said jar in my hands so Frank could see the shortage of cash left in there.

“How do you even know if it was me? How do you know someone’s not setting me up?” Frank asked, pretending to be genuinely confused probably.

“Well with all of the things Sheila is willing to do for us,” Fiona answered, “she wouldn’t want to steal from the people she cares about, right? A-a-and Mickey’s sister needs that money more than anything after what her fucking father did to her. And Liam can barely pick up a full trash bin by himself without spilling shit out of it.”

“Not to mention that Carl and I never saw Frank when we came home from school today,” Debbie added, folding her arms accusingly at her father.

“And I was at work a few hours before I got home.”

“Oh, and what about Einstein over there?” Frank asked, gesturing towards Lip. “Didn’t you have some stupid applications to turn in for money or some shit.”

“Our school has fee waivers for that shit, Frank,” Lip argued. “I don’t need to fucking pay them any money. And even if I did, I wouldn’t be as stupid and careless enough to steal from a girl who can barely afford safety, let alone a goddamn rape baby.”

Fiona gave Frank an icy glare for a couple of seconds before putting her hand out. “Cough it up, Frank. Now.”

“The fuck –“

“I mean it, Frank.”

“I don’t have any money,” he responded. “And see, now you’re all here trying to get something from or out of me, Frank Gallagher, the same man that raised all of you ungrateful morons all this time. Next time you’ll learn your lesson and treat your old man with respect. Now excuse me.”

He made his way past Fiona and headed to the living room with Carl, but that only prompted everyone in the room to follow him there, everyone arguing at him and wanting more answers.

 _Treat your old man with respect?_ Shit. More like get what you can’t give back, that’s for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly thought that I was gonna fit the scene that I wanted to include in the story into this chapter, but I'm going to include it in the next chapter. I won't say what it is, but it's definitely Ian and Mickey-related. And the money issues will continue a bit in the next chapter as well. Maybe even include some more jealous Frank? *shrugs*


	37. Multiple Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I fucking hated Frank. I hated him. As bad as it sounds coming from me, it was most definitely true. He brought out the ugly in all of us. He was the reason this family was falling apart in the first place. He never took care of Monica properly. He never cared for his own kids. He left his eldest daughter with all of the responsibilities. He never got a legit job or bothered to pay the bills for his own fucking house. He never showed mercy for anyone around him. And if anything interfered with how he wanted things to go in his life, he would be the one to throw a fucking fit."

For the first time, I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to look away from Mandy or even let any bit of disturbance take her out of her sleep. She looked very content and comfortable. I don’t think she slept this much since before the kidnapping – or maybe a while before then, even.

The doctor told us that she would be getting a lot of sleep while she was recovering from the abortion and that we should be keeping an eye out for her. Sometimes girls would have some complication or some shit where they’ll bleed a bit or something, and I don’t want that happening to my sister. Before if you asked me how she was doing and all of that – back when we were under the Milkovich roof and not really hanging out and shit like that – I wouldn’t take that into account. I didn’t have hope for shit about whether we would be okay again or not, but now I’m at least thirty percent more positive that things would work themselves out.

I smoothed her hair back a little bit and watched the rise and fall of her body before exiting the room completely in favor of heading downstairs. All of the Gallaghers were down there talking about some shit – I wasn’t sure what was going on before I headed upstairs to see Mandy. From what I saw, though, Lip had his ass handed to him by somebody, and the Sheila lady was finishing up with her cooking.

When I came down the steps, I saw everyone in the living room, and all eyes seemed to be on Frank and Ian. The redhead was mad about something, and Frank was getting all in his fucking face. I decided not to do anything about it until Frank turned his head from left to right and suddenly slapped the living shit out of Ian.

My anger started to boil up, and I came down the rest of the steps and over to Frank, not giving two shits about who was watching or what was going on. I punched Frank in the face, and his nose began to bleed. A pair of large hands grabbed my arms and shoulders. Kevin was pulling me back. Frank was about to hit me back before Ian pushed him away and gave him a blow to the face. I could have sworn that Kevin was trying to tell me something, but I was too focused on the two Gallaghers in front of me.

Ian was shouting in my face, and it was hard to focus on his words when I was so angry with what Frank did to him. I think he was trying to say, “leave him the fuck alone” or some shit.

I closely paid attention to Frank’s lips, making out his words as best as possible. “Oh really? Leave _him_ the fuck alone?” he asked with sarcastic hand gestures, his right hand pointed in my direction. “And why the fuck would I give two shits about that freeloading pit bull over there?”

That was it. That was all it took for me to want to run over there and kick him in the fucking balls. I struggled against Kevin’s hold in an attempt to get closer to Frank, but it was no use.

Ian’s next few words took me out of my violent trance, and definitely not in a good way. “Because he’s my boyfriend!”

Everyone in the room was still as rocks. Frank looked genuinely surprised. Carl and Debbie looked back and forth between me, Ian, and Frank the whole time. Lip looked genuinely confused when he casted a glance in my direction. Fiona and Veronica were standing behind the couch, their mouths agape at the news. Kevin’s grip suddenly loosened on me, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of how shocked he actually was or if he knew how capable I was of beating the shit out of someone.

My body was shaking. Ian told everyone our secret – _our_ fucking secret. He told his drunk, violent, careless father that we were a thing. I didn’t know whether to be mad or sick. After everything Ian and I established between the two of us, he broke his fucking promise.

Ian turned his head slowly, guilt written all over his face. I don’t even know how believable he really is right now. He could be fucking with my emotions or something. Hell, he probably told everyone about us before this point. Who the fuck knows?

He tried to speak to me, but I wasn’t paying attention. I shook Kevin’s hands off me and turned around, heading back upstairs, far away from everyone as remotely possible.

* * *

I couldn’t believe Frank. He was a fucking liar, and he had to know that fact himself. He stole from us before, and it’s still a continuing problem; but who gave him the fucking nerve to steal from an abused teenage girl? It makes me question whatever the hell else that motherfucker did when he was outside of the Gallagher household.

Fiona had called Kev and Vee over to call bullshit on Frank’s lies, much to Frank’s annoyance. They came by within about five minutes later. Carl looked at the neighbors, Fiona, and then Frank in that order, secretly uninterested in Frank’s new, stupid antics.

“What the hell’s going on?” Vee asked Fiona, her hands on her hips as she casted looks between Fiona and Frank.

“Did Frank stop by your bar today?” Fiona asked, maintain the hardness in her voice.

“What else is new?” Kev asked with a shrug.

“How much did he have on him today?” she asked him.

Kev frowned a bit, trying to recall the series of events that occurred at The Alibi Room today. Before he had a chance to speak, Frank tried putting up his friendly front like he always did when he got into some deep shit. “Come on, Kevin, my pal. You’re not gonna really fall for her suspicions, are you?”

“Shut up, Frank!” Fiona shouted.

Ignoring Frank’s words, Kev responded, “I think about thirty bucks or something. Maybe more? I mean, he paid for everyone’s drinks today and owed what was on his tab –“

“This is what I’m fucking talking about,” Fiona furiously replied, turning towards Frank and folding her arms in front of her chest. “You’re a real piece of fucking work, Frank. You have no fucking idea how much you’re costing us here.”

“Kev has your fucking money,” Frank admitted finally. “Why the fuck are you mad at me?”

“That’s not helping us, Frank,” Lip answered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Mandy needs the money to pay for her clinic fees, and you basically just gave us back the cash we already fucking had,” I chimed in.

“Maybe even less since we’re only getting a fraction of what’s coming in,” Fiona realized, combing her hair back in frustration and disappointment.

“Fiona,” Vee spoke, “if you want all of the money back, we can give it to you.”

“Yeah,” Kev agreed, but that was only before he realized what Vee was talking about. “Wait, what?” he asked after a beat.

“Yes, Kev. We’re giving Fiona back all of the money Frank spent at the Alibi today.” She turned her head in Frank’s general direction and narrowed her eyes. “And don’t think you’re getting off the hook this time, Frank. You still owe us however much is on your tab.”

“Bullshit.”

“And everyone at the bar owes us, too.” She scoffed and then mumbled under her breath, rolling her eyes in the process. “Talking about _free beer on me_. Shit.”

“You’re really going to make all of your customers suffer here?” Frank complained. “Do you have any idea what kind of economy we’re living in here? Lower-class citizens of America can’t even keep a job around here because the minimum wage is so low, not to mention that some of us around here are giving away our earnings to the rich pansies on the North Side. You know, the ones that are taking away everyone’s jobs?”

“The same jobs that you refuse to apply for since you’re drunk on your own ass 24/7.”

“Damn,” Carl encouraged Fiona’s comeback from where he was sitting. Debbie just rolled her eyes.

“It’s bad enough that you’re doing this to me, Kev,” Frank continued, “and to the rest of your regulars, but all the money you’re taking from us will end up in the rich, white man’s hands. No refunds whatsoever. Your bar is already suffering as it is. Gentrification is hitting every neighborhood in America, and ours is not an exception.”

“Give it up already, Frank!” I called, annoyed with his never-ending rant on social issues that many of us could give a shit less about in this moment. “It’s your own loss.”

Frank frowned at me and barged towards me until we met face to face. “Who do you think you’re talking to?” he asked. His voice got lower when he stopped in front of me, his voice growling with every word he let out next. “I am the head of this household. You respect your father like the ten commandments tell you to do so.”

I can feel my face getting hot from anger, and it wasn’t helping that Frank’s alcohol breath was in my personal space.

I fucking hated Frank. I hated him. As bad as it sounds coming from me, it was most definitely true. He brought out the ugly in all of us. He was the reason this family was falling apart in the first place. He never took care of Monica properly. He never cared for his own kids. He left his eldest daughter with all of the responsibilities. He never got a legit job or bothered to pay the bills for his own fucking house. He never showed mercy for anyone around him. And if anything interfered with how he wanted things to go in his life, he would be the one to throw a fucking fit.

And for what? He doesn’t fucking do anything except eat, sleep, drink, do drugs, and get himself in trouble all the time.

My hands balled up into fists at my side. I wanted to punch him so bad. I swallowed that thought as I stared Frank directly in the eye.

“Haven’t you forgotten already, Frank?” I barked. “I’m not your fucking son. I was never your fucking son to begin with, and therefore, you’re not my fucking father. If anyone deserves respect, it’s the rest of us, because all you’ve done all your life is leave us in the fucking dust while you went off drinking like you normally do. So stop fucking telling us to fucking respect you when you can’t even respect us!”

There was a deadly silence after my outburst. To be honest, I was surprised by some of the things I said. I don’t think I ever even voiced my opinion of Frank in his face before, not like this. And if I did, I was probably less furious about it as I was now.

My body was shaking out of anger, and I watched as Frank looked from his left to his right. He looked shocked to hear the things come out of my mouth, but I wasn’t even sure if he was sincere about it or not.

I’m gonna have to go with no. I mean, it’s Frank, after all.

All of a sudden, his hand collided with my face. I almost fell back some, bumping into Debbie and Lip behind me. My cheek stung incredibly from the impact of the slap. I could have cried a bit then and there, especially after what I told him about me not being biologically related to him, but Frank wasn’t worth my tears.

Lip was trying to hold me back, which was understandable considering that I could have very well slapped Frank right back. Fiona was furiously shouting at Frank and was about to step over and drag him out of the house when Frank got a punch to the nose. How much of the drama Mickey had seen before he stepped in to help, I wasn’t exactly sure, but he must have seen enough.

Kev immediately got a firm hold of Mickey and pulled him back, taming the Milkovich until he calmed down some. Frank was headed over to hit Mickey back, and I’ll be damned if Frank puts a hand on him like Terry Milkovich did.

So I pulled him away from Mickey’s general direction and gave him a very hard punch in the face. “Leave him the fuck alone, Frank!”

Frank pointed a hand in Mickey’s general direction and spoke with sarcasm. “Oh really? Leave _him_ the fuck alone?” I swallowed a lump in my throat at the way Frank was talking about him. I could punch him again if it wasn’t for Lip standing so close behind me. “And why the fuck would I give two shits about that freeloading pit bull over there?”

Mickey was anything but that, I already knew. But hearing that choice of words escape Frank’s mouth triggered something in me. I’ve had enough of Frank’s petty bullshit. He wasn’t going to treat Mickey like some asshole who didn’t belong here. I wouldn’t let him.

“Because he’s my boyfriend!”

The words came out so suddenly. I didn’t even mean to say what I had said. It had slipped out. It – fuck, what was it called? _Word vomit!_ It was fucking word vomit. The fucked-up part was that I couldn’t even take it back, and I really fucking wanted to considering that said boyfriend was standing a few steps away.

As much as I dreaded it, the betrayed look on Mickey’s face was there, clear as day. It made me feel awful about myself, about how I basically outed Mickey in front of everyone without his consent. I didn’t mean it, though. I didn’t mean any of it. Mickey was allowed to come out whenever he wanted to and however he wanted to do it. I prayed so bad for a rewind button or something in this fucking house. I really did.

“Mickey –“

He ignored me, which I also dreaded, shoving himself out of Kev’s hold and storming upstairs and out of sight. Shit.

I couldn’t let this go. I couldn’t just leave the broken pieces behind. Somehow I had to fix this, let Mickey know how sorry I was. And that’s when I followed him upstairs, leaving everyone else as shocked and confused while the moment was still fresh on their minds.

* * *

Frank’s nasty ass nose blood was all over my knuckles, covering some of the tattooed letters on my fingers. It felt kind of good to help get revenge on him for Ian when the moment was still there.

But thanks to Ian, now it’s all fucking gone.

He outed me in front of everyone. I can’t fucking believe it. I get in my first-ever relationship with someone – another guy; I’m so fucking lucky, right? – thinking that everything was set in stone, but it’s always that one thing that prompts the domino effect and causes everything come crashing down.

I feel so fucking embarrassed. I barely open up to people aside from Mandy and Ian, and now everyone downstairs knows that I, Mickey Milkovich, like to take Ian’s dick up my ass. Great. It should be some goddamn cheesy ass headline in the papers or something: _Deaf Underground Thug Owns the Biggest Dick in the South Side_.

The warm water washed off most of the blood on my hands before I even had a chance to put soap on them. I thought I had gotten some anger out after I punched Frank in the face, but more anger seemed to have built up seconds after. I just don’t understand. Ian and I had a deal since the beginning of our relationship that we would keep this under wraps, and now look at what happened.

I had gotten a respectable amount of soap into my palms when I saw Ian enter the bathroom. My nostrils flared up at the sight of him. Fucking asshole. He betrayed me. The fuck is his problem?

“Mickey, please, just – I’m so sorry, okay?”

 _No, it’s not okay, you ginger piece of shit_.

I ignored his gaze and continued washing my hands underneath the warm water. It was warm enough to leave my skin a light red shade. It felt good, actually.

Ian walked beside me and tried looking me in the eyes, and I tried ignoring him each time. When my hands were fully clean, I turned the water off and dried my hands off with the mint green towel that was hanging off to the side somewhere. I still felt Ian’s presence next me. He wanted to get everything he could out of his system, but it was hard for me to believe a damn thing he was signing.

He blocked my way as I tried to leave the bathroom, so I signed to him. “Move out of my way, Gallagher.”

“You’re not even going to look at what I’m trying to say?”

I chuckled sarcastically. “Look? At least you said the right thing this time around.” It was a little harsh, but I was already furious with him.

He pushed a hand up against my chest, and my eyes trained down to his digits. How he gathered the courage to touch me when I’m mad as shit right now, I wasn’t sure, but he had better move before I break his fingers the fuck off.

“What I did was a mistake, Mickey,” Ian practically pleaded in front of me. “Frank is a piece of shit, you and I both know that. He never wants to own up to his own mistakes. I’m not like him, Mickey. I didn’t mean to do that to you. I fucking care about you, Mickey.”

“If you really cared, you would have chosen a better choice of words.” I bit the inside of my cheek, and my eyes burned holes in Ian’s face.

“Mickey –“

“Other people are going to find out about this, Ian,” I signed, “and then my dad is going to find out once he’s in the clear. And when he finds out that his kid is some kind of South Side fag, he’s going to kill me with his bare fucking hands.”

“And you really think that anyone in this household is going to let that happen to you?”

“I don’t know. I mean, the piece of shit downstairs is the perfect candidate for blowing shit up, don’t you think?”

“We’ve known you and Mandy for how long? And ever since shit went down between you guys and your father – the beatings, the rape, the pregnancy, the trespassing into the Gallagher house – we’ve done as much as we could to help you guys. If he ever finds out about this, he’s not going to even make it to the front steps of the house –“

“Yeah, because no one is saying anything about our relationship,” I added, “because this didn’t fucking happen.”

Now it was my turn to feel like a piece of shit.

Ian looked incredibly offended at my own choice of words. Actually, he looked more than offended. He was hurt. I didn’t want to hurt Ian, although I liked getting revenge whenever I had the chance. Now I’m worried that he’s interpreting my words the wrong way.

To my disappointment, he was. “You mean our relationship was a fucking lie this whole time?”

“You know I’m not talking about that.”

“Then what the fuck are you talking about?”

A part of me wanted to take my words back, but it was too fucking late. “What just happened downstairs –“

“You mean me defending you and protecting you from _Frank_ , of all people?” Ian asked, a frown appearing on his face.

“Ian –“

“That’s how much I love you, Mickey. I don’t care if some drunk ass hat like Frank tries to get us to fuck shit up between the two of us. I don’t care if we both came from some really shitty families with fathers that are willing to tear us down. We’re stronger than that. I know you’re fucking stronger than that, Mickey, and that’s why I’ve always wanted to let the world know this wonderful guy that I get to call my boyfriend.”

I gulped a bit, looking down towards the empty space between the two of us. I didn’t want to have this conversation right now, but Ian wanted all of his thoughts out in the open. So he brought a hand to my chin and lifted it until we were eye level again.

“But you think you’re still under your father’s roof, waiting for the moment he would barge into your bedroom and beat the living shit out of you for being who you are. Take a look around, Mickey. Terry’s not fucking here, and he’ll never be, never again. Fiona took you guys in, and she’s not gonna kick you out or let you two go unprotected. Debbie and Carl have taking a liking towards you two, and you two are basically my best friends aside from Lip. What makes you think that, after all of that, we would let you get hurt again?”

If anyone else in the world were to look at me and pinpoint the relationship that Mandy and I had with Dad, they would probably say that I don’t have much of a problem with him, but that’s only because they don’t get to see the bruises and scars hiding underneath our clothes. Some of these bruises and scars are mentally engraved in our minds, and we’re reminded every fucking day that we were the two youngest Milkovich kids to survive in that shitty Milkovich House of Horrors.

Ian was right. I’m fucking _terrified_ – terrified of being back in that house like we were before and enduring more pain and suffering for as long as we shall live. I still have nightmares about waking up in my own bedroom, Dad holding a wooden bat or a gun as he stared down at me with all of the hatred he held inside. Some of them seemed realer than others, leaving me to wake up and cry actual tears against the pillow.

“You have nothing to say?” Ian asked, interrupting my thoughts. I bit my bottom lip, his words stuck in my head. I wanted to say something so bad, but there was no point, for Ian had turned around and headed out in the hallway and back downstairs.

I stayed in that bathroom for another few seconds. It’s like I wasn’t sure what I even wanted anymore. I wanted a relationship with Ian so badly, and he’s done nothing but make me happy and lucky that I moved in this neighborhood in the first place. At the same time, I wanted some certainty. Ian was telling the truth when he said that he and the Gallaghers were protecting us, but there’s no telling if the kidnapping shit could happen again or not. I worried about that every day since we returned home from the police station.

Finally, I sighed, my bottom lip trembling a bit, feeling a little bit on the urge of either nervousness or crying, and left the bathroom to find Ian. Just as I predicted, he was talking with everyone in the living room – I assume about the sudden outburst moments ago.

Fucking Gallagher. Sometimes I don’t know what I would do without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably not the best coming-out scenario one could come up with for a fanfiction story, but... *shrug*
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed reading it. Anything I should improve? Anything you specifically liked? Tell me about it. I'm willing to hear you all out (or see; we are on the internet). As always, happy reading and enjoy your day (or night, whatever time it is where you are).


	38. Come Out and Meet My Boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I wanted to make this all right. If comfort is what Mickey’s missing to have a real relationship with the rest of my family, then there was really one thing I knew I had to do: I had to confront everyone about all of this."

Human instincts would tell someone to run into the house when there’s an upcoming rain storm, and the temperature would drop to forty degrees. Human instincts would tell someone to wear a coat and a scarf on snowy days. Human instincts would tell someone to turn the heat on when there’s a blizzard outside, and everyone in the house is literally freezing their asses off.

I’m not exactly sure who would ask anyone why we follow this instincts on-purposely, but there’s only one logical answer: to protect us from sickness. All of these natural happenings are trying to feed viruses and diseases to us and shit, and the only way we can prove that we’re can outsmart them is to better ourselves. We do these things because we are better. Human beings are literally towering over every living thing on the food chain, for Christ’s sake.

This whole concept applies to Mickey’s situation; I know it does. Yes, I am aware that I made a mistake when I outed him in front of the family, and I take full responsibility for that. It’s just that…well, I’m very concerned for Mickey and his constant fear of his own father.

Mickey is so much better than how his father treats him, better than the things his father says about him. I was there when he talked shit about him a little while after the Milkoviches moved in the neighborhood. I was there when he yelled and got angry at Mandy for not following his orders. It was like fucking slavery in the Milkovich house. One would expect new neighbors to be all sunshine and rainbows, but there was not a hint of light underneath the Milkovich roof.

But Mickey and Mandy aren’t over at that house anymore; they’re with us, with the Gallaghers. They can trust us, if they don’t already, which I don’t see why not. Mandy seemed to have adjusted well to me and the rest of the Gallaghers ever since the rape happened. Mickey’s comfortable around me, too, but from the way things went moments ago, it’s clear that he’s not comfortable with everyone else.

I wanted to make this all right. If comfort is what Mickey’s missing to have a real relationship with the rest of my family, then there was really one thing I knew I had to do: I had to confront everyone about all of this.

It seemed easier said than done, that’s for sure. The moment I slowly walked down the stairs, eyes started following my every movements, and the whole living room was silent. Frank seemed to have left the room – probably back to the Alibi or out on the street somewhere – and Fiona and Lip seemed to have started some conversation within the remaining folks about my relationship with Mickey.

Or maybe just the general idea that Mickey’s gay. Both are definitely plausible topics of discussion.

“Ian?” Fiona started first, some curiosity mixed in her voice. She started to walk over to me but stopped when she saw the look on my face.

I already knew what she was going to ask me. _When did you find out Mickey was gay? When did all of this start? Why is he so ashamed of it all?_ All of those questions will be answering in due time, but I needed to get my words off my chest first.

My heart was beating against my chest, and I felt something drop down in my stomach. I didn’t expect to be the one giving everyone a speech about my boyfriend, not that I minded or anything like that. It felt appropriate, though. Mickey’s upset and still walking in fear every second of the day, and the last thing I wanted to do was to scare him away with anything I said or did.

That’s what I hoped everyone would understand.

“When I told you about me being gay,” I began, my eyes directed to Fiona’s, “how did you react?”

I really needed to be sure. I remember clear as day the moment I came out to her. We were into some deep shit when we were taken to the police station for driving one of Jimmy Steve’s stolen vehicles. I’m not sure what made me come out to Fiona then – maybe just the fear of her forever being upset at me for getting involved in his shit – but I did. She didn’t take it as hard as I thought she would, which was a relief on my end.

I really hope she’s the same way with Mickey, but I don’t see why not.

“I was fine with it,” Fiona confessed like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, man,” Lip agreed. When he saw the look directed at him, he started scratching the back of his head. “I mean, I didn’t know how to take it before –“

“No hard feelings, man.” I also remember the day Lip invited me to the Jackson residence so Karen Jackson could give me a blowjob while we studied Chemistry. I may have been younger back then, but I knew I was being fooled somehow.

My hands fell in my pocket, not having the slightest clue on what to do. “Do you still feel the same way…about…” I shrugged. “You know, Mickey?”

Fiona frowned. “Of course, we do.”

“Yeah, Mickey’s cool,” Carl added. “He’s not any different from you, Ian, right?”

I shrugged. “Actually, Carl, he really is different,” I explained, walking down the stairs until I reached the floor. A sigh escaped my lips as I continued. “Mickey and Mandy didn’t come from a very welcoming family. You guys already heard of the stories about them getting beaten, punched, kicked, and harassed on a daily basis. None of that has changed.” I briefly saw the sad look on Debbie’s face and started feeling bad for her. She really liked the two Milkoviches, and I really didn’t blame her.

“Mickey’s dad is really homophobic,” I started off. “Mickey’s even told me that, before he even considered the possibility of being gay, he would notice all of the times his father would punch and kick a dude for…well, for being what he calls a _faggot_.” The word left an uncomfortable presence within me, and I’m sure it did the same for everyone else. We had a shitty dad in Frank Gallagher, but he was nothing like Terry Milkovich.

I balanced on one foot and then the other before I continued. “About two months ago, Mickey and I were…goofing off, just hanging out and stuff, and I…” I paused, biting the inside of my cheek at the feel of my confessing pressing against my rib cage. I shouldn’t be this nervous to explain the stuff Mickey and I did with my family, but there’s so much tension between Mickey and I all of the time, and what happened upstairs felt a little worse than whatever we endured before.

“I kissed him,” I finally confessed, earning inched eyebrows from Fiona and Kev. “It was an accident at first, and Mickey didn’t see me a while after it happened, but…then he came back a couple of weeks later, and he –“ _Inhale, then exhale, Ian_. “He wanted to…try kissing a couple of times, maybe even see if he liked it or not. And he did.” Vee nodded understandably.

“And he accepted it?” Debbie asked. I frowned a bit in confusion at her question, and she clarified. “You know, that he’s gay?”

“Yeah.” A beat followed. “All of this was new to Mickey at the time, and he wasn’t sure what he specifically wanted,” I continued, “but I did know that he wanted to keep us secret for a while, at least until he knew Terry was a hundred percent gone. The kidnapping didn’t happen too long ago, and Mickey’s father is still out there. More than that, Mickey is scared. He’s scared about whether or not someone is gonna out him to his father while he’s still on the loose.”

I took this moment to look around at everyone’s reactions. Fiona was running a hand through her brunette hair, Lip was nodding after every sentence, Debbie and Carl seemed to be deep in thought about Mickey, and Kev and Vee looked a bit defensive, as if they were going to send the S.W.A.T. team out through Chicago to find Terry and place him in a maximum security prison. Mickey had a bigger support team than he thought he did, and I really wanted him to recognize that.

“Mickey didn’t want me to out him like I did,” I stated. “He didn’t want to out himself. He wasn’t ready for something major like that, and that’s mainly because he doesn’t feel safe here just yet. And I’ll admit that, after the kidnapping that happened a while ago, I don’t want Mickey or his sister getting hurt again.”

Debbie and a couple of the adults nodded. My shoulders relaxed a bit knowing that they were all on Mickey’s side, but I already knew this all along. The Gallaghers are a unit, and we look out for each other. Mandy and Mickey aren’t blood family to us, but we all treat them like they are. It feels like the Gallaghers will consider them more of a family this time around now that they know about my relationship with Mickey and what that means for Mandy as well.

Fiona’s eyes left me and glanced up at something behind me. I followed her gaze and noticed Mickey standing further up the stairs closer to the second floor of the house. I’m not sure how much he watched, but it seemed like enough to know what I was talking about with everyone. I climbed up a couple of stairs to get a better look at his face. Some parts of his face and neck were a little red, and that was an indication that he was either letting his anger out or crying it out.

From the look of his eyes, though, he did a bang-up job of letting his tears out.

“Hey, Mick.” I whispered and signed to him, trying to calm him down a little. His arms were folded in front of him defensively, like he didn’t want anything to do with me. I understood that because of what I did to him, but I didn’t want to accept it.

“Come here. They wanna see you.” He stayed still, his eyes burning holes into my face. Mickey can be stubborn at times, but I really wanted to show him how much I was trying to help him. He needed me, but I needed him to help me help him in return. “It’s okay, Mick. I’ll be with you, alright?” I walked up one step and reached my left hand out in his direction. Within about eight seconds later, he grabbed my hand back, and we were both walking down the steps, hand in hand.

The moment we reached the bottom of the steps, though, Mickey felt a little uncomfortable holding my hand, for he tried stepping to the side a bit, still ashamed of what he witnessed a while ago.

Squeezing onto Mickey’s right hand, I continued to sign for him. “I told them everything, Mick. I told them what happened.” I was expecting Mickey to snatch his own hand away at my confession, but he just sat there and let me continue. “They all took it pretty well.”

“Are you kidding me?” Fiona asked with a shrug. “Of course, we took it well.” I signed Fiona’s words to the best of my abilities so Mickey could understand. Lucky for Mickey, he could make out some of Fiona’s words. “Mickey, you can be whatever you want, and we’d still take you in with us. We’re not letting your shit dad hurt you anymore.”

“Yeah, we like you, Mick,” Carl added.

“Do you think we would have allowed Ian into our home if we were like that son of a bitch?” Veronica asked rhetorically to literally anyone in the room. “We’re family here, too. Family doesn’t let other people get hurt.”

Lip scoffed. “Unless it’s Frank, and he’s falling face first into concrete.”

“Maybe the insurance money he’ll get from that injury will pay off the rest of his tabs,” Kev added.

Everyone in the room sans Mickey started laughing at Kev and Lip’s joke. It was pretty clear that everyone in the room hated Frank and his pointless antics.

Mickey still looked a little nervous about being in a room with everyone who knows his secret. I knew how hard the coming-out process could be, and I wanted Mickey to feel safe with everyone here. So I allowed my thumb to caress Mickey’s hand, trying to ease some of the tension he’s bottling inside. He turned to me, uncertainty hidden in his blue, red-rimmed eyes. I really hated it when he looked so upset like that.

“See that, Mick?” I asked, signing to him and keeping his hand in mine. All of the laughing ceased once everyone else in the room heard my voice. “Everyone here accepts you for who you are. We all really care about you. We want you to feel safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted since I left your house that day. Remember that?” Mickey nodded, slowly but surely.

I turned so I was facing Mickey, checking all of his features for any signs of doubt or regret. There weren’t any, which was a good sign. “I want to be in a relationship with you, Mick,” I continued, now holding both of his hands. “I’ve wanted that for so long, but I wanted to respect your wishes and everything after you told me about your father. He’s still out there, sure, but he’s not close enough to hurt you again. We all got you.” From the corner of my eye, I could see Fiona nod once more.

I watched as Mickey bit down on his bottom lip. I know deep down that he wants this, too. Before, he didn’t even know whether or not he wanted to admit that he was gay, but now we’re holding hands in front of other people. In my eyes, that’s a whole lot of improvement.

“What do you say?” I signed to him, a little nervous as to what Mickey’s answer would be. “Would you still be my boyfriend?”

Mickey didn’t answer right away. He had to observe the other people in the room first. This was very big for him, and all of that was understandable. Me, it wasn’t that hard for me to come out to Fiona, though I’ll admit it took a little longer than expected, given the fact that I used to date Kash and even went as far as have sex with him and make him cheat on his wife.

Mickey’s situation is different. All his life, he was told that emotions were for pussies and that he had to man up. Mickey was already man enough. What more did he fucking need? According to Terry, he needed a shit ton of other stuff, like leadership skills, selling drugs to other people, basic instincts in relation to getting involved with the law – stuff like that. Mickey’s a smart guy, though; he didn’t need to learn that stuff, much less get himself in trouble for his father’s doings. Mickey was fine just the way he was, and I loved that about him the most.

The room was silent, all eyes on the deaf Milkovich. His hands were tight against mine, a sign that he was still nervous about everyone’s behaviors and reactions. When he turned back to me, though, he nodded.

A nod. A fucking nod. That couldn’t make me any happier.

A smile grew on my face, looking into Mickey’s eyes, and before I knew it, I leaned down at placed a sincere, soft kiss against Mickey’s lips. It didn’t last too long, though, since other people were in the room. When we let go of each other, Vee and Fiona were cheering like those women in the live studio audiences. Mickey’s face was red from the kiss and everyone observing it, but I wrapped an arm around him to keep him ground.

Now it was my responsibility to prove how much of a good boyfriend I really was to Mickey. Now that he had the comfort of the Gallaghers and the Ball-Fisher family, he was finally at home.

* * *

I had been knocked out for most of the day. I woke up to Debbie coming in and telling me that dinner was ready, which I was secretly thankful for considering that I didn’t eat since the morning.

When I came downstairs to eat, I noticed that there was some sort of tension in the room – or maybe some weird fucking over-protectiveness. Lip and Ian sat on either side of me, looking at me as if I was a piece of glass ready to shatter. I was awfully confused by what was going on. Lip had asked me a few questions about how the abortion went. To be honest, while I’m glad that demon spawn is gone, I hate the fucking bleeding that came with it. Fiona had a bunch of spare pads for her and Debbie to use, so it wasn’t that bad. Then again, I hate feeling like I’m on my period 24/7.

I wanted to talk to Mickey, but he wouldn’t look in my direction too much. In fact, he was so focused on his food in front of him that he didn’t really focus on anything else. Sometimes was clearly on his mind, but no one was telling me what, and it really irked me because Mickey’s my brother. Anything that’s wrong, he should feel free to tell me about it.

Kevin and Veronica long left the Gallagher house, and it was time for everyone to go to bed. I was combing my hair on my side of the bed when Mickey entered the room. He sat on the other side of the bed by the corner, dragging his bottom lip in his mouth. The look on his face was worrying me. Something more serious than I expected happened. Did it have to do with Dad? Was Mickey hurt?

“Mick,” I signed to him, turning around to get a better look at my older brother’s face. His eyes were trained on the covers of the bed, his fingers pressing into the skin on his bare arms. I leaned over so I could sign in Mickey’s line of sight. “Mickey, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

He gulped before his eyes trained on me. He looked sad, for some reason. He looked as though he was hiding something from me.

“Mick, did anything happen today? Dad come by?” Mickey shook his head. “Alright, then what is it?”

It took almost a minute too long to understand the truth, but the truth eventually got out. “I’m…gay.”

Something in me kind of expected this; after all, he hung out with Ian more than anyone else. He wasn’t even willing to play a video game with Carl unless Ian was involved. The two of them seemed very close. I was almost jealous by their tight friendship…but I never knew they had actually been romantically involved with each other, either.

“Really?” How pathetic of me. That was really all I had to say to that, because before entering the Gallagher household, I never even suspected Mickey to having a liking towards other guys, let alone redheaded guys like Ian. Getting out from under Dad’s roof really brought out our true colors, it seems like.

I gulped before I asked him, “you came out?”

He shook his head. “Ian outed me, but…it’s okay now, I guess.” I wasn’t buying that. Ian outed him? When the hell was this, and why is Ian outing Mickey for him? Did I really miss that much? “Ian told everyone that he didn’t want anyone telling you right away until the two of us were alone to talk.”

“Really?” I asked, nodding. I really respected that. Everyone knows how shitty our lives are, but even then, we were still siblings. We made it through hell and back since we were babies, and something like Mickey’s sexuality wasn’t that hard to tackle, in my eyes, in comparison to what our dad has put us through.

Of course, I am speaking from my perspective. Every time I look at Mickey’s face now, after he made that confession, a part of me can still sense all of his insecurities.

Mickey bit down on his bottom lip. A layer of tears was covering his eyes, and he was probably thinking one or two things: 1) even if we were with the Gallaghers, Dad will know about this eventually, and 2) he was expecting some kind of criticism from his own sister, which I would never give to him. If not any of that, maybe it’s just the realization that he’s safely out of the closet with someone he truly loves.

Ian must have done pretty well with him.

“Hey, hey,” I told him, crawling across the bed and sitting right next to him. By the time I got close enough to him, a tear had already fallen down Mickey’s face. I grabbed his hand with my left hand and rubbed the top of his hand with my right. “Mickey,” I whispered, trying to keep him calm.

His head slowly turned to me, and he signed, “I never came out to anyone before.” Mickey easily got emotional by this conversation. It made me wonder how long he’s known himself that he was gay. It made me wonder how different this all would be if we never met the Gallaghers, and he found this out while Dad was eating grilled chicken in the other room. Dad would have sliced his neck open for saying such a thing. All those years of watching Dad kick the living crap out of a gay guy built these walls up for Mickey, denying every possibility of him ever being like them.

And now they’re all coming down. The weight on Mickey’s shoulders were gone, even if the heavy emotions were still there.

“How did it feel?” I continued. I wanted to know everything – well, anything Mickey was willing to tell. Sure, that’s one door down, but Mickey keeps to himself a lot, and I don’t want to break them all down at once or anything.

“I don’t know,” Mickey replied. He sighed, wiping some of the tears off his cheeks. “I’m…” He paused, gulping down the lump in his throat. “I’m not too scared anymore, I don’t think. But…”

“Dad?” He nodded. “We’ll deal with him when we get to it, but right now, you should be proud of yourself. That’s a pretty big deal for you, Mick.”

Mickey nodded. “I guess.”

I gave him a couple of seconds before I signed to him again. “So what about Ian? Do you love him?” It was probably too soon to ask that question, but I was just curious. After all, Ian does keep Mickey company.

“Kind of,” Mickey answered. He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I know I like him, but…I don’t know if _love_ is the right word to use right now.” I nodded in agreement before wrapping an arm around my brother’s back, rubbing his arm in comfort. Mickey leaned onto my shoulder and rested there for a couple of minutes, removing the tension and nerves from out of his system.

Ian was standing in the doorway from the corner of my eye. I rubbed Mickey’s back and told him that I would be in the hall if he needed me, though Mickey was usually the person to do well on his own. He just nodded and started getting under the covers in the bed as I got up and walked towards Ian in the hallway.

“Is he okay?” Ian asked carefully, playing with the hem in his pajama shirt.

I just sighed. Ian is a good person at heart with good intentions. Trust me, I believed that the moment I met him. I just wanted everyone to get what they wanted, and Mickey especially deserved it considering that he and I were always serving our father every day, non stop. We never got what we wanted – sometimes we got sleep, but that was sometimes limited with all of the fucking nightmares we would have.

“He’s fine,” I responded, leaning against the wall, “but I need to ask you something.” Ian nodded. “Do you love him?”

“Mandy, of course.”

Pretty understandable so far. “How much, though?” A beat passed. “How far are you willing to go to prove that?”

“I’d do anything for him, Mands – for the both of you. You guys are my family now. I’d always protect you like the rest of us have already been doing.”

I nodded, folding my arms in front of my chest. “I just want you to be very sure of this, Ian. Mickey’s a tough guy, but we’ve been pretty fucked up for years. There were even days when we thought we’d starve to death.” I ignored the jab at my stomach when I observed Ian’s face.

“Mickey’s had it worse,” I continued. “He was four years old when he found out that he would be permanently deaf, and he didn’t take it too well once he found out. I have to be there for him most of the time so he can communicate with other people, but I know that you guys have been talking with each other and stuff, and some of the other Gallaghers are still learning.” I nodded. “Stuff like that is good.”

Another pause. My facial expression didn’t change. “But Mickey’s really fragile, Ian. The ASL, his injury, this psychological traumatic bullshit – he’s stuck with all of this for the rest of his life, and the last thing I wanna see is my brother getting upset because someone he loves ends up breaking his heart.” Ian nodded, his eyes falling to the floor between us.

“You take care of him. Treat him like he’s the best damn thing you’ve ever seen in your existence. And just because we’re cool with each other now doesn’t mean I won’t hesitate to kick your ass, if you hurt my brother’s feelings.” I cocked an eyebrow in his direction. “Is that clear?”

“Mandy,” Ian spoke sincerely, placing both of his hands on my upper arms to calm me down. His eyes never left mine for a minute, and at that moment, he said, “you have nothing to worry about. Mickey’s safe with me. I’ll protect him just like you asked. Trust me.”

In that moment, I felt oxygen fill my lungs knowing for sure that Ian was going to keep his promise. I was at peace, for once in my goddamn life. Finally, Mickey got to be genuinely happy. That’s all I ever wanted for us since we left Dad back at that house.

Ian wrapped his arms around me and embraced me in a hug. I hugged him back. There was no telling what could happen with this relationship later on, but for right now, I just want to stay in moments like this for as long as I can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story had to take a long hiatus, but I'm glad to say that I am still working on it. I'm most likely gonna include some fluffy moments in the next couple of chapters, so we won't have to worry about drama for a while. ;)


	39. Defensive Linebacker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "His head turned to his right and then his left, looking for anyone coming out of their rooms, before he leaned up and placed a kiss on my lips. He seemed to still be testing the waters in terms of public displays of affection only hours after coming out. Yesterday’s hand holding and kiss on the mouth was mainly initiated by me, but now he was taking control, which I allowed. He was the one trying to adjust here, and I’m not going to force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do."

The Tuesday morning sun pierced through the gaps of the blinds in our room. The brightness strained my eyes when I opened them, and my body was very stiff and hurt like a bitch when I stretched in the bed. I would usually be out of the house already by now to get on with my early morning run, but a lot of things have been going on around here for me to keep up with my running.

By a lot of things, I really mean the homework from last night that I haven’t finished.

I looked down and saw Mickey’s arm slung over my waist. Sometime past midnight, when everyone was in bed, he had joined me. Even if my bed was too small for the both of us to be functional in it, I still allowed him to join me. He seems to be more comfortable being intimate with me now that the family knows about him. He’ll still have some biting thoughts in the back of his head, but he’s not as intimidated anymore.

Then again, Terry is still out there, so that intimidation is nowhere near gone yet.

My hand slid down to his hand, softly grabbing it and caressing the top of it. The inked FUCK on his fingers stood out, even if the room wasn’t entirely lit.

Mickey told me the time he got those tattoos once. Iggy had talked him into getting some tattoos when they were hanging out on the back porch. Other than Mandy, Iggy seemed to be the only one, out of Mickey’s brothers, that didn’t see Mickey as the pussy Terry makes him out to be. Unlike Terry, Iggy wanted to raise his little brother’s self esteem, especially since his hearing loss greatly affected him, hence the trip to the parlor was planned. Mickey loved them, from what I could tell. He still didn’t communicate with a lot of people, but they would look at the tattoos and get the hint right off the bat.

His fingers started to move under my touch. I heard him groan behind me, and when I turned around in my space in the bed, I saw Mickey crack his eyes open lazily. They stayed half open, aware that the sun would blind his eyes back into another millennium.

“Morning,” I signed to him. He nodded back sleepily, though I almost didn’t catch it. I scooted over and placed a tiny kiss on his lips, and he gave me a sleepy smile back, followed by a morning yawn and a stretch of his limbs.

Sleepy Mickey Milkovich still remains as one of my favorite versions of Mickey.

I couldn’t see much of the remains of his tears from last night, but I remember him crying himself to sleep after coming out to his sister. Mickey seemed to have a lot to swallow after coming from a homophobic environment. He couldn’t tell Mandy about all of this earlier, probably because Mandy could one day slip and out Mickey herself, and then Terry would unleash worse hell on his own son than he would have on anyone else.

“You feeling better?” I signed to him, cautiously looking out for a reaction from him.

He nodded. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Mickey had the right to be tired. All his life, he did everything to protect himself and his sister from his ape shit father, and yesterday marked one of the biggest milestones the young Milkovich has ever reached.

I’m so proud of Mickey. Hell, there are times where I can’t even tell how much.

“Your lucky ass gets to stay home today,” I signed back, and he slightly smiled in response. Mandy was still recovering from her abortion, so she might have to miss the end of the semester of school, which sucks because I miss seeing her in class.

“You’re gonna be gone long,” Mickey signed back, and I’m already getting the vibe that he’s already missing me, although I haven’t left yet.

“I’ll be back,” I signed. “Until then, Sheila’s coming over to tend to you, Mandy, and Liam while everyone’s out. Don’t you like her?”

Mickey shrugged. “She’s fine, I guess.”

It was only a start, but I’m really glad that Mickey’s getting acquainted with his not-so-new neighbors. He once told me that Sheila’s enthusiasm was too much for him, though I begged to differ. Mickey loved her meals, though, and Sheila was willing to learn more about Mickey and Mandy the longer she came over. Mickey still needs time to fully adjust to her, but he’s still opening up, which makes me extremely happy.

We were in the bed together for another five to ten minutes. Sometimes we would doze back off to sleep, but I had to be more aware of the time since I had school for the day. A part of me didn’t even want to get out of this bed because a) the bed itself is too comfortable to leave, and b) Mickey’s here in it, and this is pretty much one of the simpler moments in our relationship that we can actually enjoy.

Then again, my grades depended on my attendance, and any moment, Fiona was going to barge in here and wake all of us up.

So I scooted over to Mickey again and placed another kiss on his lips, this one longer and warmer than the last. When I moved away again, Mickey had a bigger smile on his face before he signed to me, “fuckin’ breath stinks, man.”

I chuckled in response. “Sorry,” I replied. “I’m getting up.”

As much as my body protested against it, I crawled out of the bed, careful not to tower my weight over Mickey’s body. I searched the drawers for something to wear, pulling out some dark jeans, some boxers, and white socks. Eventually, I’m going to need some more clean shirts, but for right now, there was a white T-Shirt with the Green Lantern symbol that I decided to wear for the day.

For the next five minutes, I washed up for class – and right on time, too; Fiona had knocked on the bathroom door sometime while I was in there, letting me know that breakfast was ready downstairs and that she would get all of our lunches prepared after she threw the laundry in the washer.

When I got out of the bathroom, I spotted Carl standing in the hallway waiting for me to exit. Before I let him pass, he said, “Mickey’s in your bed.”

I craned my head so I could see the sleepy Milkovich sit up in the bed, yawning and getting some of the crooks out of his back and neck. “Yeah, he wanted to crash with me for the night,” I replied with a shrug before turning back to Carl, who nodded with much understanding.

“You love him?”

I nodded. “Yeah.” I paused for a moment before adding, “I like how he smells.” That was definitely true. Mickey had a really nice scent to him – maybe pine trees or something of the like. Sometimes it would get mixed in with the body wash in the bathroom, but when that wore off, Mickey’s natural smell came about, and it was a powerful yet wonderful damn thing.

“Just for the record,” Carl stated, “I already had a hunch that Mickey was gay.”

I frowned at him, taken aback for a second. “Wait, really?”

Carl nodded again. “You two aren’t really that good with keeping on the down-low. I should know; I heard you two kissing and stuff outside the bathroom a couple of times.”

Shit. Now I remember.

“Right,” I responded with a chuckle, and I finally moved from in front of the bathroom door so Carl could take over. When the door shut, I was about to head back into the bedroom, but Mickey had gotten out of the bed and left the room himself.

“The fuck was that about?” he signed to me.

“Nothing. He’s just…curious,” I answered. “About us.”

“The fuck’s he out here being curious for?” Mickey asked with a tiny frown.

I giggled. “Don’t worry about it,” I told him, placing my hands on his shoulders and slightly pushing him up against the wall opposite to the bathroom door. “It’s like we’re some kind of fuckin’ it couple in this house or something. It’s usually like that a day or two after a relationship is announced. Ask Fiona.”

Mickey chuckled for a second before his face fell completely. It was still my fault, in a sense, that he’s out of the closet. He didn’t ask to come out right away, and I just outed him in front of my family. The other Gallaghers, though, don’t find anything wrong with Mickey being gay. In fact, they welcomed it, which made me the happiest person in the world.

My left hand rubbed Mickey’s right shoulder gently, and he glanced up at me, his bright blue eyes shining in the hallway light. “You have nothing to worry about, Mick,” I reminded him. “You’re our family now, remember?” Mickey nodded, which made me ease up a little bit.

His head turned to his right and then his left, looking for anyone coming out of their rooms, before he leaned up and placed a kiss on my lips. He seemed to still be testing the waters in terms of public displays of affection only hours after coming out. Yesterday’s hand holding and kiss on the mouth was mainly initiated by me, but now he was taking control, which I allowed. He was the one trying to adjust here, and I’m not going to force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do.

Mickey’s entire arm trembled underneath my hold. I could tell he was still nervous. Nervousness didn’t go away overnight. There were five other Gallaghers and Mickey’s sister in this house, and any one of them could see us standing here with our mouths on each other.

We let go of each other after a couple of minutes, and Mickey gave me a small smile before he headed down the stairs towards the kitchen. When I turned my head, Fiona came out into the hallway with a laundry basket in her hands and a smile on her face.

She had been watching us.

“You saw us, didn’t you?”

Fiona shrugged, making her way closer to me. “It wasn’t intentional. He was kissing you the moment I was pulling some clothes out of Debbie’s room.” I nodded, following my sister into my room and grabbing some dirty laundry from off the floor. “I’ll admit, though, you two are really cute,” she added.

I smiled at her. “It hasn’t even been a full day, and we’re already cute to you.”

“I’m serious,” Fiona laughed. “And I’m honestly glad you’re there for him, Ian. Not everyone’s coming out process is the same, but you’re sticking by Mickey and making sure he’s all in one piece. That’s important.”

It was important. After being in an abusive home for years, would I honestly want Mickey to feel hurt all over again?

Once all of my dirty clothes were in the basket, Fiona started to get Lip, Carl, and Liam out of their beds, and I headed downstairs with Mickey in the kitchen. He had already started on some scrambled eggs and a sausage patty before I had the chance to prepare my food.

All of a sudden, I heard Frank’s voice. “Top of the morning, testosterone-charged Lucille Ball,” he greeted, walking past me in favor of grabbing something off the stove.

“Fiona made that food for us, Frank.”

“You know,” Frank replied, grabbing a plate and adding some scrambled eggs and sausage patties to it, “it pays to show some respect to the ones that have supported you for the seventeen years you have walked on this earth. How do you think the Bushes have survived respectable lives?”

I rolled my eyes, bringing my plate of food over to the table next to Mickey. My hopes of not having to deal with Frank during breakfast were blown up when he had sat on my left side with his breakfast food. I tried to ignore him, but from the corner of my eye, I could see the frown on Mickey’s face. He saw Frank hit me last night, and he’s still not over that. Honestly, I’m not, either, but I don’t care to drag on that argument into the day.

Unfortunately, Frank had other plans.

“Oh, why, hello there, Voiceless Deaf Man,” Frank greeted, enunciating every word and making Mickey agitated with him.

“Leave Mickey alone, Frank,” I barked at him, already annoyed with his bullshit.

“That’s what you’re honestly going to say to me?” Frank asked in disbelief. “We live in a society where the government swipes our pockets clean, and kids care less and less about their parents. I don’t need negative influences being engraved in your head, either.”

“You punched me first,” I argued, “and Mickey was defending me. It’s not my fault or his, for that matter, that you don’t want to own up to your own fuck-ups.”

“That’s besides the point,” Frank responded, poking his fork into some eggs on his plate. “His dad probably accepted that crap under his roof, but this is my roof you two are sitting under. You don’t disrespect the people that put this roof over your head –“

“Fiona, you mean?” I folded my arms in front of my chest and looked over at Frank. “Last time I checked, you would rather drink until you’re falling in a pot hole than pay the water bill.”

Frank gave me a frown. I didn’t react to it, though. I’m done cowering to Frank Gallagher.

“I changed your diapers and fed formula to your ungrateful ass,” Frank growled, pointing a finger in my face. “I’ve done it for all of you selfish kids. Neither you nor Fiona nor the rest of those gremlins would be here if it wasn’t for me.”

My nostrils flared then and there. Neither Frank nor Monica were responsible parents; the latter wouldn’t even go to the hospital after she got diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Frank means nothing to me, unlike Monica. I despise how she’s not getting the help she really needs, but she at least tried to care about us just a little. She would even stop by around Christmas sometimes to drop off some presents for us. Hell, she brought me and the rest of my siblings into the world, and I’m grateful for my siblings. I love them all very much.

Frank will never know what it’s like to have that kind of relationship with them, especially Fiona and Lip.

His eyes left mine and focused on Mickey’s behind me. “I’m sorry, sir,” he enunciated once again, “I don’t speak in finger codes. Try again when you have something better.”

Mickey was out of his seat in a flash. He must have saw what Frank was trying to say.

Before I knew it, he was rounding my seat to get to Frank. He had his butter knife in his hand. I hated Frank with a passion like everyone else did, but I didn’t want Mickey to start committing crimes just to defend me.

“Mickey!” I called, grabbing onto his arm to prevent him from making a move on Frank. I kept a firm grip onto Mickey’s bicep. My left arm was around his waist, my hand on his stomach as I tried to hold him back. Frank was already standing at this point, and he and Mickey furiously glared at each other, ready to throw the first punch. “Mickey, don’t do this.” I should have signed it, but then Mickey would be charging at Frank like a viscous animal and lose control.

“Come the fuck on,” Frank said, rolling his eyes. “This son of a bitch doesn’t have the guts to do it again. You’ve made him soft enough –“

Mickey flinched forward, gripping onto the butter knife in his hand, but I held him close to my chest. My right arm was over his in a second, preventing his arm from extending further and lodging the butter knife in Frank’s skin or something like that.

Fiona and Carl came downstairs and witnessed trouble before their very eyes. For the first time in a while, I noticed Carl’s speechless expression. Fiona had dropped the laundry basket on the floor and darted over towards the three of us. “What the fuck is going on here?” she fumed.

“You think he’s so innocent now, Fiona?” Frank asked, gesturing towards the knife in Mickey’s hand. “You think this little freeloader is a saint now?”

Fiona didn’t want to hear another word come out of Frank’s mouth. She pointed to the back door behind him. “I want you to leave.”

“You can’t kick me out of my –“

“Now. Go.”

The room was silence for a few seconds, with the exception of Mickey’s heavy breaths and the sounds of Mandy’s footsteps down the stairs. With a final huff of breath, Frank exited the kitchen but to get some clothes to throw on for the day.

Once he was gone, Fiona directed her attention towards me and Mickey. She spotted the butter knife in Mickey’s hold. “You, give me that.” Mickey did as he was told. Fiona’s voice softened a bit as she continued to speak. “I know you just want to help us, Mickey,” she began, and Mickey paid close attention to her lips to make out what she was saying, “and I am more than grateful for that, but this is not the way to do it. I hate him, too. Trust me. I had to deal with that son of a bitch for over twenty years, but violence is not the answer. I don’t want you in another predicament you’re gonna struggle to get out of. You understand me?”

A few seconds later, processing Fiona’s lip movement into his memory, Mickey slowly nodded and shrugged out of my hold, returning to his breakfast at the table. I turned my head towards Mandy by the stairs, and she gave me a confused yet worried look.

Eventually, though, everyone seemed to cool down as if Frank was never here.

* * *

I decided to not talk to Mickey for most of the day after what happened this morning. I figured he needed a chance to cool down for a bit. The video games by the television seemed to ease off his tension, but the thought of having to see Frank’s face around here very often was stuck in his mind.

I sat by the stairs and watched him play a game while I checked the time on my phone. _It should be lunch time at school boy now_ , I thought as I searched for Ian’s number. A couple of rings passed before I heard the sound of annoying ass jocks causing a riot front behind the double doors. “Hello?” the sound of Ian’s voice rang through my ears.

“The fuck is going on over there?”

Ian chuckled. “There’s a fight going on down here. It’s kinda stupid, if you ask me.”

Damn it. Why did there have to be a school fight _after_ my abortion? “You should have filmed it for me and sent it to my phone.”

“Could have given me the chance,” Ian responded. “I could have recorded the back and forth bitching for you, too, if you gave me about five more minutes.”

“That shit’s too boring. I just want the good stuff.”

I heard the sounds of the cafeteria get a little louder as Ian opened one of the double doors. “It was a pretty weak fight anyway. Greg Allen punches like a fuckin’ girl.”

“Like that’s not obvious,” I replied, twirling my hair with my index finger. “The whole school thinks he’s a badass, but he’s never actually won a fight before. It’s like, Jesus, get training lessons from Mike Tyson or something.” There was Ian’s laugh again. The guy’s a fucking dork, but if we’re being honest, I wouldn’t have befriended him if he wasn’t. It’s like it suits him, almost.

A silence fell upon our conversation. I took this time to glance in the direction of my brother on the couch. He was still playing that video game – Grand Theft Auto, it looked like – and that’s when I remembered why I called.

“Mandy, you still there?”

“Uh, yeah,” I responded, keeping my eyes on Mickey. “I just…” I paused, putting the words together properly. “I just need to tell you something. It’s pretty important.” When Ian gave me a confirmation, I continued. “It’s about what happened this morning –“

“Nah, Mandy. It’s alright. No harm done.” Ian assumed that I called to apologize about Mickey acting up, yet that was the last thing I called to do.

“No, Ian. I just…” I bit the bottom of my lip and watched as Mickey placed his game controller down in favor of grabbing something from the kitchen. “Mickey’s been really defensive since…you know, since Mama passed away. Remember when we left the cemetery that day, and I told that her _assumed_ cause of death was homicide?”

“Yeah?”

“I mean that figuratively,” I explained. “Like…Ian – Dad was just so bad to her. If you were a Milkovich living under our old roof, you would never wanna come back there again. He always put the idea in her head…” After a moment, I said, “you know…suicide and all that?”

Ian wasn’t saying anything on the other line, and I knew very well that this was affecting him, too, especially since he’s now my brother’s boyfriend.

“I was too little to remember it, but Iggy once told me the story of how Mama would call a couple of my aunts late at night, asking them if she could crash with one of them until Dad calmed himself down,” I continued, uncomfortably shifting in my seat.

I stopped for a moment, regaining a little bit of composure. I always hated telling the story of Mama and Dad’s fucked up marriage. It’s fucking surprising, actually, how she’s still married to that asshole, even when she’s dead. Dad never bothered to sign divorce papers or anything because 1) her death was so unexpected, and 2) he was too confident in himself that she was too soft to leave him anyway. With the way he treated her, though, it’s not like he wanted her to stay in the first place.

“According to Iggy, he once told her that, if she were to kill herself today, no one would even miss her. That’s why she stayed with him, Ian. That’s why she stayed.” My ears were boiling, imagining Mama at the old dinner table, crying and holding me and Mickey close to her as Dad ate some of the undercooked steak she used to accidentally serve him. “And by her staying, he was able to mind fuck her over into suicide. All of the goddamn things that he put into her head pierced her skull and went straight through her brain. Mama was dead before she pulled her own plug.”

This topic of conversation started off talking about Mickey, but now I think it’s partially me, too. I can still trust Iggy to defend and protect us, and I can never leave Mickey in the dust, even if I could; other than that, Mama was the only good thing left for us. She was all we had left in humanity, or rather the hopes of it anyway. Mickey and I had the Gallaghers still, but Mama was an integral part of our childhoods, and now she’s fucking gone.

“Mandy?” Ian spoke carefully, deep concern in his voice.

I sniffled a bit, wiping some hair from off my forehead. “Mickey found someone to fill the hole in his heart he was missing after nearly fifteen years of punishment. He doesn’t want to hurt Frank _just_ to hurt him. I just want you to understand that.” A pause. “You can’t fucking hurt him, Ian. You just can’t.”

I sniffled again. Something biting the back at the back of my skull wanted to tell Ian about the day Mickey almost committed suicide in the Gallagher bathroom, to help Ian understand how really deep he’s in about losing someone so special to him. However, Ian’s still new to some of our shit. I don’t wanna know how this would fuck him up just as bad as Mama’s suicide did to Mickey.

“Mandy,” Ian spoke through the phone, attempting to calm me down. He took about another three seconds before he responded, “You don’t have to worry about me, okay? I love Mickey. I’m not gonna hurt him. I promise.” God, if I wasn’t relieved to hear something like that before, I sure as fuck am now. “And I’m sorry about your mom. I know how much she means to you both. Hopefully, your dad will be long out of the picture – at least, until the cops find him and arrest him. Until then, we’re keeping you guys with us. You understand me?”

An exhale escaped my nose. I don’t think any of the other ass hats at school would be as trustworthy of a friend as Ian was. “Thanks. See you after school, Ian.”

“I’ll text you both later. Love you.”

It was a platonic _love you_ , if anything, but it didn’t fail to make me smile. “You, too, Gallagher.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so maybe this chapter wasn't as light as I thought it would be, but expect some more fluffy, sexy stuff in future chapters still (there's still more drama to be added, so don't think I've stopped here on that). Comments are appreciated, and I hope everyone is having a very wonderful day.


	40. Give Me a Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everyone has someone like that, someone that they’ve been at home with for years that can’t seem to make it out of that black hole they’ve been sucked in. Death, moving away, some kind of emotional disconnection – black holes are different in depth and their lasting effects on other people."

Our History teacher handed back some assignments that we previously turned in. About half of the ones I got back had a grade lower than an eighty percent – they weren’t necessarily failing grades, either, but I still wasn’t satisfied with them, regardless. I’ve been slipping a bit in my History class lately. Same with Math. Usually I have Lip helping me with my Math assignments since he’s taken the class with same teacher before. However, since his class is close to graduating this year, he’s been busy completing AP exams and getting all of his final documents in order. History was a different story. I would go to a tutor during lunch sometimes, but other than that, I can never find a way to memorize dates and times for shit.

Our History teacher, Mr. Preston, told the whole class that we were having our final exam sometime in late May. Some of the content on it is related to the Cold War Era we discussed sometime last month, and I already know I’m going to fuck up because that’s one of the areas where I’ve been having trouble on some of his quizzes. I could have gone to tutoring after school today so I could get some help, but with the disappointment behind these graded papers in my head, I couldn’t find it in me to go right then and there.

Lip was headed to a study group at his friend’s place – and tutoring some people on their upcoming AP exams – so I walked home by myself for the day. When I returned to the Gallagher house, Mickey was on the couch with his feet up, staring blankly at the television screen as _Fast and Furious_ was airing. He caught my movements as I closed the front door and headed over to the seating area.

“Didn’t take as long as you thought. Am I right?” I joked for a little bit, but Mickey didn’t react. Something was lodged into his mind, for there was not so much as a smile on his face.

I placed my stuff down beside the couch before joining him. Mickey sat up a little, his feet resting on my lap. A moment later, Mickey signed, “I think something was wrong with Mandy today. It looked like she was gonna cry or some shit when she joined me to play the game on the TV. She wouldn’t even let me have a fuckin’ conversation with her.”

“I think she’s just worried about you, Mick.”

“The fuck is she worrying for? I’m fine.”

He knew what I was talking about, I’m pretty sure of it. He probably just doesn’t understand to the extent that Mandy does. Their versions of worried for one another lie at varying levels. For Mickey, it’ll probably take a while to let his emotions out, especially depending on the situation. In comparison, it’s a little easier to indicate when Mandy’s concern for her brother shows. When the two cross paths, they can never meet in the same place, either, which was what was happening now.

“She doesn’t want me hurting you, Mick,” I explained carefully. “She really cares about you…” I paused. “You know, after…”

Mickey frowned at me. “After…?”

“Your mom.”

Mickey stared down at his lap and pinched at the jean material on his legs. He didn’t like talking about his mom. I’m sure he loved her very much, but it hurts too much to bring up that one person in your life that you’ll never get back.

Everyone has someone like that, someone that they’ve been at home with for years that can’t seem to make it out of that black hole they’ve been sucked in. Death, moving away, some kind of emotional disconnection – black holes are different in depth and their lasting effects on other people.

Sometimes I can even feel what Mickey’s is like. It’s probably deeper than the oceans around the world. Maybe it can fit thirty skyscrapers inside. Who knows? I just know that it’s deep enough for Mickey to feel every bruise, scar, stab, and slap he’s endured living in a one-parent home, with the other rotting under the earth for the rest of eternity.

I grabbed Mickey’s hand and caressed it with my thumb. Mickey’s hands were surprisingly soft. Something so soft and fragile came from a very rough, tenacious environment – like a wolf pack of some sorts but worse. “I won’t hurt you,” I signed, keeping Mickey’s hand in mind. “I promise.” He most definitely had my word.

Mickey slowly grabbed my hand back, watching our fingers intertwine for a brief moment before sitting up and scooting over closer to me. His legs swung off my lap, and he took my arm and wrapped it around himself. I couldn’t stop smiling because Mickey was able to trust me so much. The best thing was that he could trust me; there was no doubt about that.

He placed a soft kiss on my cheek, and his head was against my chest after that. I ran a hand through Mickey’s dark hair, and I could feel him snuggle into my touch. My smirk continued to grow. At this point, I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“You’re really cute, you know that?” I signed to him.

“Not fucking cute.” Mickey signed back.

“Yeah, you are.”

“Fuck off, man.”

“You’re cute to me, anyway.” Mickey didn’t answer after that, and I knew that I already won.

* * *

Liam is a very energetic kid. I was up in the boys room for a little while because he wanted me to play with some of his toys. Barely ten minutes passed before he was up and begging for me to chase him around the house, betting that I can’t reach him to tickle him.

The moment I got up, Liam was out of the room in a dash. Lucky for me, my strides were bigger than his. However, the little boy had gone so fast that I couldn’t locate him the moment I stepped into the hallway. I could still hear his giggles, and I ended up following them down the hallway towards Debbie’s bedroom.

With the exception of Ian’s side of the room, and sometimes Liam’s, I didn’t find it appropriate to go in other people’s shit. At home, I didn’t give a damn since I lived in a household full of meddling brothers. Playing with Liam reminded me of the time Iggy was pranking all of us on April Fool’s Day back when I was ten. Goddamn asshole almost got a frying pan to the face.

I poked my head into Debbie’s room and found Debbie sitting on her bed with a textbook in her possession. “Hey,” I greeted her. “Did Liam come in here?”

When Debbie lifted her head, she brushed the strands of red hair out of her face and shook her head. “Nope. I’ve been in here for a while. I don’t know where he is.” For a second, I assumed that she was lying. “Try downstairs.” I still had a hunch that she was lying, but I decided to go down there anyway, hoping that the little boy would show up sooner or later.

Coming down the main stairs of the Gallagher house, I stumbled upon Ian and Mickey on the couch. Ian’s arm was around Mickey, and Mickey’s head was leaning against Ian’s chest. They both looked kinda cute together, if you asked me, but don’t expect for me to stay in the room any longer if they were to engage in some gross ass make out session.

“You still taking care of my brother, Gallagher?” I asked, rounding the couch and sitting on Ian’s right side. The moment I plopped down, Ian turned his head towards me, and Mickey lifted his head and trained his eyes in my direction.

“Not a bruise or scar in sight, ma’am.” Just making sure, of course.

“Good. Now we can do Chem together.” I searched around the coffee table and reached for the Chemistry textbook hidden underneath. A smile spread across my face as the sound of Ian’s reluctant groans ran through my ears.

“I was just snuggling up with your brother over here,” Ian teased, “and you want me to stress over long, boring ass Chemistry work?”

“I’m stuck in this house for the rest of the semester because of this goddamn abortion,” I reminded him with an inch of my eyebrow. “Not to mention that I’m literally the only way for Mickey and I to leave this shit hole South Side behind.” I was at least right about that. Mickey and I had to get out of here, as far away from Dad as we could, before that son of a bitch kills us.

I didn’t want to worry Ian even further, so I added, “you can come with us, Ian.” I brought my knees onto the cushion of the couch and scooted closer to the redhead. “Think about it. We can go to the same college and shit, coop ourselves in a tiny ass college apartment somewhere…”

“Our grades are shit.”

“Correction: _my_ grades are shit, and that’s because I can never, for the life of me, remember how to do equations in Math and write English essays.”

“You never go to the tutoring sessions,” Ian laughed.

“Oh, and I assume that you go to all of them?”

“For History, Math, and sometimes Chemistry, depending on the material.”

“Then you can help me with the next assignment then, right?”

Ian scratched the bottom of his chin, grabbing my book and flipping the pages until he reached our current lesson. “A little, but I can’t guarantee that.”

It was better than nothing, that’s for sure.

“Get fuckin’ married and move into the goddamn school, why don’t you?” Mickey signed, watching the exchange between me and Ian. It made me smile because of how jealous Mickey was of our conversation. Sure, it sucked knowing that he doesn’t have the education that Ian and I have, but what he really needed right now, from the bored look on his face, was to be alone with Ian.

Of course that wasn’t going to happen.

I leaned my head closer to Ian’s, keeping my eyes on Mickey on the other side of him. “Something wrong, Mick?” I teased him a bit. “You lonely over there? Jealous?” Something in me wanted to mess with him a little more, so I placed a tiny kiss on Ian’s cheek.

“The fuck are you doing?” Mickey suddenly signed. This was going to be good.

“You seem a little upset, Mick. I’m just lightening up the mood.” I signed, the smirk growing on my face. I placed another kiss on Ian’s cheek, and Ian, in turn, began to snicker a bit to himself.

Without warning, Mickey smacked his hand up against the back of Ian’s head. “Damn it, Mick,” Ian groaning, rubbing the back of his own head.

“The fuck you letting her kiss you for?”

“She’s just messing around.”

“I don’t fucking like that shit, Gallagher.”

“Aw, what’s wrong, Mick?” I teased again. “Those cheek kisses are your territory or some shit?”

“He’s my fucking boyfriend, so yeah.”

“Wanna come over here and prove it?” I asked him before placing another kiss to Ian’s right cheek. “Your boyfriend needs you, Mickey. You’re really gonna let him drown in my kisses over here?” A wider smirk came across my face as Ian signed, “sorry,” while Mickey just folded his arms and frowned at us.

I waited for a moment to see what Mickey would do, keeping my face hidden from his view. Meanwhile, I whispered in Ian’s ear, “is he gonna do it?”

“Give him a second.”

I swallowed down the laugh that was about to escape my lips. Fucking Ian Gallagher.

I placed another kiss on Ian’s cheek, but a longer one to sell this to Mickey. I couldn’t see what was happening at first, for I kept my eyes closed and prayed that Mickey was actually thinking about it, but then, after a few seconds of keeping my lips there, I heard a shutter go off from Ian’s phone. I moved away for a moment, and Ian carefully handed the phone to me so I could see the picture.

The photo was fucking priceless.

“Oh, my God,” I giggled at the sight of a Milkovich on either side of Ian’s face. My kiss to Ian’s cheek wasn’t as strong as Mickey’s. It looked like he was literally sucking the shit out of Ian’s face.

I craned my head around and noticed that Mickey was still kissing Ian’s cheek. It was gross but cute at the same time. “I am totally sending this to my phone,” I told Ian as I pulled open the messaging app. I smiled as I sent the photo to my phone, but my smile immediately went away as I felt Mickey’s hand grab onto my arm.

I got up out of my seat and ran to the kitchen, waiting there for a moment in case Mickey was gonna start chasing me in here. When I realized that no one was following me, I returned and noticed Ian firmly holding onto Mickey’s body. Ian was still laughing to himself about the little prank we pulled on Mickey, and Mickey was struggling to get out of Ian’s hold to get closer to me.

“Come on, Mick,” Ian soothed him, literally hugging the bastard’s limbs off. “You don’t wanna hurt your baby sister, do you?” He placed a kiss to Mickey’s cheek while Mickey continued to worm his way out of Ian’s arms.

“Like I said, Gallagher,” I called with a smile on his face, partially joking about Mickey, “take care of him, but also be careful. He can be a real, feisty bitch.”

Mickey turned his head and noticed that I was standing in the archway that separated the living room from the kitchen, and he started to charge towards me, but Ian pinned him down once again, still laughing about the photo probably. That’s when I made it my cue to leave those two dorks to their playful little cuddling session – at least for now. Fucking nerds.

* * *

The majority of the Gallaghers were upstairs getting ready for bed, and Mandy was already asleep. She’s supposed to get a lot of sleep and shit after the hospital visit, and I’m glad she is, too. The part where the fuckin’ blood came out of her pie hole immediately after the abortion is disgusting, though; I can’t really say how many times I came across a bloody pad in the bathroom trash, but I hate looking at it.

I was still hungry, and dinner didn’t fill me up as much as I wanted it to. So I went in the Gallagher’s kitchen and searched high and low for something to snack on. I was bent down, looking behind some of the food on the shelf, when I felt someone grab my ass.

When I whirled around, Ian was standing there with a shit-eating grin on his face. Goddamn fucker. “You’re still up.”

“So is the goddamn sun. Do you want a fuckin’ medal?”

I walked over to the cupboards, still on my search for something else to put in my stomach. Out of nowhere, I felt Ian’s cold hands go inside my shirt through the cut-off sleeves.

“Goddamn it, Ian,” I signed to him, shivering from the chill that just went through my spine.

“I meant, you’re still up,” Ian tried again, wiggling his eyebrows a bit.

I definitely know what that means.

“Don’t get any fuckin’ ideas, Gallagher,” I signed to him.

“Why not, babe? Let’s have a little fun.”

“Because you let my sister put her goddamn mouth on your fuckin’ face. I own that fuckin’ face.” Ian chuckled off to the side at my response. “And don’t call me your babe like I’m some type of fuckin’ girl.”

I returned to reaching up towards the cupboards and grabbing the first snack I see up there – a bin full of cheese balls. How charming.

Ian’s arms snaked around my body, and he started to sign again. “Fine. I won’t do it again. Anything for my boyfriend.”

Jesus Christ, he never stops trying.

His nose snuggled into my neck, and I felt his wet lips against my neck. They were really warm, too, but mostly moist and soft. Okay, so maybe the jackass was right, and I should let loose or some shit for a little while.

That doesn’t mean that I wasn’t close to slapping him in the face after what happened today.

Ian’s hands were on my chest again, and I could feel his firm hands make their way up to the holes of my shirt where the sleeves used to be. His fingers slid through again, and this time, I welcomed the cold only by a little. Ian then started to bring his fingers to my nipples and –

 _Oh shit, that feels so good_.

His hot breath was up against my skin as he continued to make circles around my nipples from underneath my shirt. It’s like he was trying to say something to me. I couldn’t even focus properly while the son of a bitch was feeling me up and shit. My fuckin’ toes curled as Ian’s hands slowly roamed around on my chest, and I could feel Ian’s growing erection on my ass.

When I turned around, Ian removed his lips from off my neck and brought them up to my own lips. Some electrical charge or whatever the fuck went off throughout the rest of my goddamn body, and immediately we were at it like fuckin’ dogs in the summer. Ian’s lips felt really good, no matter where the hell they were.

Although I couldn’t hear it, I felt a moan escape my mouth as Ian pressed his tongue further into my mouth. Another shiver went throughout my body as I felt Ian bite my bottom lip and tug at it. I liked it when he did that.

My back hit up against the stove. It hurt a little bit, but Ian’s kisses were distracting me at the moment. I brought my hands up to Ian’s hips and brought him closer to me. In response, Ian kept his hands on my back and tugged me closer to him. Everything about our make out session was so fucking sexy.

Ian started to lift my shirt up, but I swatted his hands away. “No, man. Not in here.” I don’t know how I got so blushy around this fucker, but I did.

“Why not? Everyone’s sleeping.”

“They can hear us down here.”

“We’ll be quiet, okay? Just wait a minute.”

We were still for a moment. I had no idea what I was waiting for; hell, I couldn’t hear a damn thing anyway, so how was I supposed to know whether or not Fiona or Mandy was creeping on us from upstairs?

All of a sudden, Ian wrapped his arms around my torso and lifted me up off the floor and onto the counter. I may have screamed, I’m not sure. Still, what the fuck Gallagher?

“The fuck?”

“Let’s get down to business, Mick.” Ian’s hands were trying to slide into my boxers, but I started to jump down from off the counter.

“I’m not getting fucked in the kitchen, Ian. We’re all gonna have to eat our fuckin’ come in the morning, and that’s fucking nasty.”

“I won’t mind eating yours,” Ian responded, hooking his fingers onto the waistband of my boxers and tugging me towards him. Dirty fuckin’ asshole.

I bit down on my bottom lip as he slid his hands into my boxers, gripping onto my hips. One of his thumbs grazed over my pelvic area, causing me to bite down on my bottom lip a little harder. I looked ahead as Ian mouthed, “come on, Mick. We’re alone now.”

 _Fucking shit, I can’t take this anymore_.

I kissed him back, and our kiss was harder than the last time. We stood like that for a couple of minutes before I turned around and rested my elbows against the counter top. Ian was taking a moment before he went back to touching my waist, having come prepared with the wrap that was sitting on the counter a second ago.

Eventually, my boxers were shoved down to the floor. To my right was the lube bottle that Ian got from his room upstairs. He grabbed it, and I turned around and watched as he slicked his fingers up with lube, getting ready to rip my ass in half. I turned around and bit my bottom lip again, bracing for when his fingers would get up there.

One of them did not even a second later. The substance on it was a bit cold, although not enough to give me a seizure or anything. Ian’s finger was long enough to make it _that_ far up my ass, and – goddamn it, that felt nice.

I leaned over the counter and gripped onto the edge of it as Ian worked more fingers in my hole. I could tell that my knuckles were getting whiter with the more sensation that was running through my body, with the help of Ian’s fingers.

All three digits were removed, and I was left hanging for a couple of moments. Finally, something really fucking thick slid in, and my world started to crumble once again. One of Ian’s hands covered my mouth, signaling that I was making too much noise, and I quietly adjusted to the feel of Ian’s dick for a couple of seconds. Ian decided to wait so I wouldn’t be too loud, but I was fucking ready for him to move.

Finally, his hand still on my mouth, Ian thrust in and back out again. I missed this shit so much. Ian and I haven’t fucked in a while – most of the shit we did was just hand jobs and whatever the fuck. It’s like I’m having my first time all over again. It’s like I was four years old again, swinging on the goddamn baby swing while Mama pushed me further up until I could reach the damn clouds.

Fuck. I wasn’t sure if it was from the immediate poke of Ian’s dick against my prostate, or if it was from the distant memory of Mama and me at the park, but I felt some moisture around the corners of my eyes. Goddamn it.

I continued to bite down on my bottom lip and stifle my groans as Ian pounded in me. I kept my focus with Ian’s rhythmic movements, and that’s when I felt my balls tighten up down there. Ian’s the only person that can make me feel things other than sadness. Actually, he’s never made me feel sad; he’s done everything to cheer me up and shit. He’s basically a best friend integrated into a boyfriend, which was something I never knew I wanted.

Now I understand why Mandy worried about me so much.

A few more thrusts later, and I let out a moan. My leg was dripping with my come, and a wave of relief started to come over me. I could feel Ian’s orgasm directly after, followed by a hard grip against my waist. He started to slow down for a moment before bringing himself to a stop.

We were standing like that for a couple of seconds. I don’t think Ian heard anyone upstairs suspecting anything, so we were most likely in the clear. I turned my head around and watched as Ian bent down and brought a soft kiss to my lips. It was a little long, though it didn’t necessarily last.

I really wanted it to, though. For fuck’s sake, I really wanted it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank God I typed all of this before HTGAWM came on, because holy shit, tonight's episode was crazy af.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Comments are always appreciated, and I hope everyone is having a wonderful day/night. <3


	41. Sisterhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Still, this was all new to me, having someone I can paint nail polish on and talk about annoying brothers with. Debbie and I were helping each other, in a sense. She was giving me the sister I never had, and I was giving her the sister she always wanted."

I still needed a while to recover from the abortion, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t bored as shit.

It’s Sunday afternoon, and Fiona set up the pool outside so Carl and Liam could swim in it. It’s only the second week of May, and no one was out for school yet, but it’s gotten extremely humid outside. I didn’t want to be in that type of weather today, partly because I’m a little lazy this week and that the aftermath of the abortion is still wearing off.

So I came up to Debbie’s room to hang out with her. She appeared to be on her laptop, looking up something for a project, I assume. It probably isn’t the right time to distract her from her work.

“Hey Mandy,” she ended up greeting me anyway. This time, I stepped in the room and joined her on the bed. “You know, Fiona’s getting the pool and stuff ready outside.”

I shook my head. “Can’t swim yet. Can I see your laptop for a minute?”

“Sure.”

Debbie placed the device on my lap, and I started making a Google search. I had the intention of finding out if the police had found our dad or not. So far, only one source on the list of links stated that he was still on the run. The rest of them were a bunch of irrelevant shit that I didn’t even need.

“Did they find your dad?” Debbie asked. She probably didn’t see the search results on the screen, so I just shook my head. “Frank once went missing for a few days. There was something on the news saying that a man died underneath some train tracks, and we all thought it was him.” A pause. “It was just some hobo.”

“Isn’t that the same shit to you Gallaghers?” I ended up asking her. She simply shrugged, which is an acceptable response considering that the Gallaghers don’t give too much of a shit about Frank anyway, from what Mickey and I have seen within the past few months.

We were silent in the room for a couple of minutes after I handed Debbie her laptop. My eyes fell upon the amount of stuff that was in her room. There was a doll house somewhere near her desk area. I assume she doesn’t play with it anymore since she’s getting older and finding other things to occupy herself.

Still, I observed the doll house from where I sat. Dust was being collected on the roof of it, doll clothes were scattered around the inside, pieces seemed to be missing based on one of the rooms inside that I could actually see, and there seemed to be only five dolls inside, one or two of them being male. The black hair on one of the female dolls was atrocious, and one of the male dolls was missing a shoe. Judging from the other stuff in Debbie’s room – boy band posters, art work she’s made, some nail polish of various colors – she didn’t even bother to fix any of that stuff.

They were neglected. The dolls, the house itself – they were being neglected. As strange as it may sound, it’s really symbolic and enlightening. The house and the toys inside made me feel better in that Mickey and I weren’t as alone in this world as we thought we were.

Debbie was getting older by the minute, and growing up came with various new changes. Not all of them were good, though, like all of the times Debbie’s recited her day at school with the bitchiest girls in her class. For someone like Debbie, she gets picked on a lot, which doesn’t help her grow up in the way she wants to. Growing up meant you made more friends and all that shit, right? As far as I can tell, aside from me, the Gallaghers, and, to an extent, Mickey, she has a friend and a half; this one girl Debbie talks to is fake as hell for no reason, and I’m not even convinced that she’s a real friend. Hearing about some of the snarky remarks targeted at Debbie made me hate her so much.

“When I’m done, do you think you can help me work on my nails?” Debbie asked suddenly. I don’t do my own nails much, except place another layer of black polish on them when the color starts to chip off. Even when that happens, I don’t give too much of a shit about them too often.

“Sure,” I answered anyway, and that earned me a satisfied grin.

Debbie didn’t have too many bottles of nail polish, but she seemed to have a respectable amount. About half of them were pastel colors like banana pudding yellow or strawberry shortcake pink or some shit like that. The only dark colors she had were navy blue and an emerald green. I got why though. The two of us had different tastes: I’m more into dark, Goth-like aesthetics while Debbie’s into the rainbow and sunshine type ones.

“This all you have?” I asked her as I grabbed four different bottles off the desk.

“One of the girls from school gave me two of them, I think,” Debbie answered. God, I really hope it’s not the same fake ass girl that I think she’s talking about. “She wanted to have the colors to go with a party outfit she was wearing, but they didn’t match.”

With a shrug, I just grabbed the light blue polish and returned to the bed, twisting the bottle in my hands as Debbie completed whatever she was working on. It didn’t take too long for her to finish, for about three minutes later, she placed her laptop in the chair by her desk and returned to the bed, slipping her feet out of her shoes. “Fiona never has time to do this with me anymore.”

“I can bet.”

“She works all the time. It’s like we’re not even sisters anymore.”

“Someone has to get that nasty rash off your brother’s arm at some point.”

“Who, Carl?” Debbie asked, her face scrunched up. “He’ll be fine with tarantulas crawling up his butt. Trust me, I’ve seen him hoard bugs in the house before, and Fiona had to call an exterminator.

That was really fucking gross. My older brothers are nothing like that, although they’re a bunch of gross pigs.

Debbie grabbed some cotton balls and polish remover from underneath the bed and started wiping off the dark cherry-colored polish that was already on her nails. The color was very pretty. “What’s it like?” I caught myself asking her, causing the girl to cast a glance. “You know, having a sister?”

“You don’t have a sister?”

“Not really. I have a half sister –“ I stopped. “Well, half _brother_ , kind of, since his mom buys girl clothing and shit for him.” Debbie nodded. “Molly prefers to be a girl anyway, so I’m not affected by it.”

“So he…wants to be a she?”

“Pretty much.” Debbie nodded again. “And even if Molly was my half sister, we don’t even see each other that often, and I doubt she and I would be interested in the same stuff. I mean, she’s probably a few years younger than Carl. Do you think I’d wanna fuck around with Barbie dolls and princess castles?”

Debbie nodded as she continued to rub the polish off her toes. “It’s better than having no sister at all, that’s for sure.” She either addressed my previous question about having a sister in general, or she was referring to Molly being my half sister. Whichever it was, I felt she was right. “Why do you ask? I mean, you have Mickey, and that’s good enough, right?”

“Well, yeah,” I agreed, “but he’s a boy. I love him as a sibling regardless, but we don’t relate to each other like sisters do.”

“That’s true.”

“Besides, do you think Mickey would be okay with me putting matte lipstick on his lips and combing his hair and shit?” The two of us shared a giggle. Mickey would look fucking ridiculous in the purple shade I have back at home.

We were quiet for a few more seconds as Debbie cleaned off four of her toes. That’s when she started speaking again. “I can be your sister,” Debbie suggested, which caught me off guard. “We’re not blood related or anything like that, but I think you’d be a cool big sister to me.”

I actually smiled because fucking Debbie Gallagher had to be one of the sweetest girls ever. “Really?”

Debbie nodded. “You could give me advice on boys and clothes,” she added. “Maybe you could even help me play tricks on Carl.”

“What kind?”

“Don’t know. Anything so he can stop messing with me.”

“You’re the older one, though. Remember that,” I reminded her. “Boys are assholes that get on everyone’s nerves. Believe me; I lived with five of them. Still, you’re smarter than them. Mess with his head, even if it means he’ll have mid-term memory loss.”

“But not, like, hurt him, right?”

“Figure of speech.”

Debbie was still for a moment, my words wandering around in her head. Fiona was always the authoritative one of the Gallaghers, so she and Debbie never really had a bonding moment that involved stealing food off of Carl’s plate or squirting Lip with toy water guns whenever they felt like it. For me, though, I feel like Debbie is appreciating Fiona being the authoritative one, but at the same time, she wants someone who is just a sister to her and not a sister and a mom wrapped in one.

“Thanks,” she declared, completely satisfied with what she got.

I opened the nail polish bottle as soon as Debbie got all of the nail polish off her toes. I never got to really do this with anyone before. I had friends in elementary school I would hang out with, but I never got to do the sleepover thing. Dad expected to have us all home at a certain time, despite the fact that I had several older brothers who could walk me home whenever I needed them to.

Still, this was all new to me, having someone I can paint nail polish on and talk about annoying brothers with. Debbie and I were helping each other, in a sense. She was giving me the sister I never had, and I was giving her the sister she always wanted.

* * *

The back yard started looking like a goddamn water park. Carl and Liam were chasing each other around the pool, trying to splash each other, and Ian was helping Liam. All three of them looked like a bunch of dorks.

Still, it looked the least bit fun.

A tap on my shoulder startled me for a minute, and I turned around and noticed Debbie standing next to me. She signed, “why aren’t you out there with them?”

I laughed. No, really, I fucking laughed because how does anyone see me being caught dead in any pool looking like a complete idiot?

But if we’re being completely honest, though, I used to enjoy being in pool water. Mama tried teaching me how to swim before I turned five, but we were unsuccessful. After I slipped on the shallow end of the community pool, I told her that I never wanted to do that again. Looking back at that day, though, it would have made her happy to see me accomplish something so young besides walking and talking.

Not only that, but my injury was still very severe back then, and my doctor advised me not to submerge myself in water and all that shit until my ears got better, which they really didn’t. Even then, Dad never let us go to the pool that often, if he ever did.

“Not interested,” is what I ended up signing to Debbie, though I knew she was going to have some indication that I was wrong.

She didn’t touch on it again after that. “Can you help me bake cupcakes then?” I frowned at her before she added, “I need them for a party at school.”

Isn’t that the type of shit you ask Fiona for anyway? Why did she wanna do it with me? Hell, the only things I’ve ever baked in my life were pizza rolls, and even those turned out looking like shit by the time they were done.

Still, I decided not to reject her offer since, well, I could learn a thing or two in the Gallagher house, if I’m basically crashing here already.

Debbie left my side to grab the flour, cake mix, cupcake pans, and measuring cup. I don’t bake or cook or anything that often – or at all, really. Other than the pizza bagels, most of the stuff I serve to myself or someone else is thrown in the microwave, like leftover pizza or Chinese food. The Gallaghers were more into that shit than my family ever was. Mandy would cook more than half the time, but that’s only because she’s the only girl in the household now that Mama was no longer with us.

“How do you sign this?” Debbie asked me when she read the instructions on the back of the cake mix box.

I let her watch my hand movements as I signed the heating instructions. “Preheat the oven at three hundred fifty degrees Fahrenheit for ten to fifteen minutes.” She was still for a moment, recalling my signs in her head before she nodded, and then she continued to read the box instructions, occasionally asking me how to sign other things.

We were both cracking eggs and putting the yolk in the batter bowl when Debbie placed the egg shells down to write something on a notepad for me to read. “You think Mandy will want one of these?”

I shrugged because how the fuck should I know what Mandy wants?

“She helped me paint my nails today,” Debbie added as I started stirring the contents in the bowl together.

“Nice, I guess.” I wouldn’t understand how girls get excited just to have nail polish on their toes, but shit, I’ll just fuckin’ let ‘em.

“She said I could be her sister.”

I rolled my eyes. “Do you have any idea on how the system works?”

Debbie shook her head. “Not _that_ kind of sister. You know, in spirit.” When she noticed that I still didn’t catch on to what she was saying, so she continued. “She never had an older or younger sister to hang out with since she lived with a bunch of guys, and Fiona’s always busy being an adult.”

That was the moment I started having more respect for Debbie. All I wanted, other than to get out of that goddamn house, was for my baby sister to have someone she can confide in. In a way, we both still had Iggy, but other than that, none of our other brothers care too much about us – and are practically Dad’s slaves by now – and while Mandy and I also had Ian to talk to, he’s a guy. Mandy didn’t get along with a lot of the girls at school, from what I hear, so to know that she had Debbie as a friend, despite the fact that they were years ago, made me feel happy for them.

It’s very rare for me to use the word _happy_ , too, and that says a lot.

Once the contents for the batter were stirred up, we started pouring a bit of it into the paper baking cups inside the pan. Debbie watched as I lifted the pan from off the counter and placed it into the oven to bake. Truth be told, making something other than pizza rolls, for once, seemed like a piece of –

Fuck, I shouldn’t even be thinking in the direction of a shitty ass pun.

“What’s it like?” I saw Debbie sign to me a second later. “Being gay.” I shrugged at her because I really wasn’t sure. It felt like being straight but with a dick going in me instead of me putting my dick in a girl, but I would never tell Debbie that; I just didn’t know that being gay was a possibility.

“Okay, I guess.” I answered her. “I don’t know.”

“Do you love Ian?”

I shrugged. “Kind of. Yeah.” I watched Debbie lean against the counter, nodding after receiving my answer. “You’re gonna haunt me away from him with some of your sisterly advice or some shit?” I asked her, growing a little suspicious of her. She frowned. “I may be deaf, but I’m not a dumb ass. None of that shit is working on me.”

Debbie retreated to writing another note on the notepad, and I read on with her as she wrote. “You’re the first real relationship Ian’s ever been in,” she explained. “If he’s ever been in a relationship with anyone else, he doesn’t talk about it with anyone here.” She paused. “Maybe Lip sometimes, but not me or Fiona. Then again, those relationships probably weren’t as serious as the one he’s in with you.”

Ian never mentioned any of his past boyfriends, which felt just as weird as Ian having serious boyfriends in the past that weren’t me. He told me about the times he kissed or even fucked other people, but none of those seemed like a big deal to him. The dude just wanted to get touched or laid. Or both. I know for a fact that Ian’s my first boyfriend, in addition to my first fuck buddy and friend outside of my family, but I didn’t really think about Ian’s firsts that much.

“I don’t really know what you guys are up to most of the time,” Debbie continued to write on the notepad, “but I know that whatever you’re doing, it makes Ian happy, so I don’t have a problem with it."

“Yeah, you’re right. You don’t know, and some of it, you really don’t need to.”

We both chuckled a bit before Debbie continued writing. “Ian’s the only one of us who’s not one of Frank’s kids. He and Lip found that out one time when our mom came back to the house to take Liam away.” I wasn’t sure why Debbie was telling me this, but in a sense, I was catching on to where she was getting at. “He doesn’t talk with me about it a lot, but I know that, out of all of us, he feels the most disconnected from everyone. Lip is the second oldest, so Fiona always notices him. I’m the only girl, so Fiona basically has to look out for me. Carl is always getting in trouble, and Liam’s the youngest. Ian’s just in the middle of everything.”

I bit down on my bottom lip, thinking about what Ian would look like about three years ago, trying to get Fiona’s attention after getting a good grade on some lame ass school assignment. Fiona probably had her hands full, lulling a crying baby Liam to sleep and stopping the bleeding on Carl’s arm after some bike accident. Maybe Lip would have acknowledged it, at least, being the smart ass of the household and shit, but everyone else in their own worlds wasn’t something I considered about the Gallaghers. I thought they noticed everything and had some kind of reaction to it.

Or maybe they do, and it’s something else I’m not understanding yet.

“It’s been a while since he told me, but I still remember what he said,” Debbie continued. “He told me that he’s always wanting to help other people and stuff, but his efforts get pushed to the side without much of a _thank you_. Back then, he probably shoved the idea aside, but later on, I overheard him say something similar to Lip, and it reminded me of the day he told me about it."

That was bullshit. Coming from an abusive household, I probably wouldn’t have gotten a _thank you_ from Dad no matter what I did – not just because I’m deaf, but also because he’s just a rude person in general. For me, I could roll with whatever at this point, though a _thank you_ from Dad would have been the most shocking thing of the decade.

The Gallaghers were nothing like the Milkoviches. They had their own level of dysfunction, but they were ten times better than the Milkoviches – or at least my dad and my older brothers anyway. I understand why Ian wouldn’t get acknowledged sometimes since he’s the middle kid and everything, and there were a shit ton of Gallaghers under this roof. Still, it made me feel more sympathetic towards him.

“Monica came back to the house sometime last year, and she got us a bunch of gifts,” Debbie went on. “Most of it was clothes that none of us were able to wear anymore. The only one of us who accepted any of her gifts was Liam, but he didn’t understand what was going on.” I nodded. “She constantly wanted to bond with all of us and be a good mother, for once, but Ian didn’t want her to, not after the things she put us through.”

I never even met this Monica chick before, and she already seemed annoying, like that one bug you can’t seem to get out of your house.

“Monica hit Ian once. She’s never the violent type, but she has bipolar disorder and was at one of her lows. She wanted to do something right by us, but Ian didn’t give in to her attempts at being a good mother. They got into a big argument, and Monica was yelling at him and hitting him. That’s when Ian started to run away and join the army.”

“The army?”

“It was his dream job. He wanted to help other people by fighting people outside the country, feel like he had a purpose in life. But he wasn’t old enough to join yet, and he used Lip’s identity for it. They put him in military prison, but Fiona’s old boyfriend Jimmy bailed him out. After that, the military guys told Ian that he’s no longer eligible to join the army.”

That was pretty fucking messed up. I remember asking Ian a while ago what he wanted to live for and all that shit the day he was caught up in a bunch of homework, and he told me he was still working on it. Now I knew everything. He’s still working on it, but in reality, he lost what he wanted to fucking live for. He still has a better chance of getting out of here than I do, but fuck me if that’s not the shittiest thing I’ve ever heard.

“You’re the best thing Ian ever had since the day he got the news,” Debbie continued. “It took months for Lip and Fiona to make him feel better after thinking about what he’s done, but he was never really happy. Sometimes he doesn’t even understand the point in taking some of his high school classes, especially knowing that he can’t do ROTC anymore.”

My eyes fell to the ground, Ian stuck on my mind. I can’t imagine what he would look like crying about losing his eligibility. That was too much for me to handle, even if I heard the whole story as to how it happened.

Lucky for me, I didn’t have to. Debbie had reached a hand out to my arm and brought my attention back to her. A look in her eye indicated that she wanted to say something but didn’t want it to rub off a certain way. “I worry about him sometimes after that happened,” she signed to me this time. “That doesn’t mean I don’t trust you being his boyfriend. Plus, you and Mandy are already cool by yourselves.”  
  
I gave her a slight smile. Sometimes it felt a fucking shame that the Gallaghers have this much bullshit to deal with. At least they’re not alone. I mean, Mandy and I have been through hell and back, but it’s not like this whole thing is a contest anyway. “Thanks. You too.”

A little while after we talked, we took the cupcakes out of the oven, getting ready to put frosting on them. They turned out better than I expected them to be. None of them had one burn spot on them in sight.

Maybe I can bake, after all. Maybe bonding with Debbie wasn’t so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for delaying this one, guys. I hate writer's block so much. This has been one of the hardest updates ever for me, smh. But I think I'll include one more fluffy/sexy chapter before we get back into the storm, so you guys will have room to relax before some serious shit happens. You have been warned.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know what you think so far. As always, my [ask box](http://promqueen-and-hairgel.tumblr.com/ask) is open for questions, comments, prompts, etc. I have a ton of prompts in my ask box, though, so I don't know when each of them will be done. I have to watch a movie and a few episodes of The Simpsons for homework, so maybe I can squeeze a couple in here or there. But I hope you have a good day/night. <3


	42. A Book Waiting to Be Read

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Maybe confiding in one person is good for Mickey. Maybe opening up to one person is more of an advantage than a disadvantage. Maybe that one person is more sympathetic and empathetic than you’d expect them to be. Maybe that one person is everything you needed in a bond as strong as mine with Mickey."

Everyone had gone to sleep, but I was left staying up to work on some of my assignments. This is probably the latest I’ve been awake for, which was a problem since I usually did all of my assignments on time. Fiona checked on me twice before she turned in. Even if she’s the head of the household and working on ten thousand things at once, she seemed to be the lucky one compared to me.

Lip tried his hardest to help me with Math, but I was still fucking struggling in it. I hated Math so fucking much. Teachers always said something about needing Math for literally almost any career field, which worried me because a) I had no fucking idea what I was going to do in the future anyways, and b) whatever I would be doing, I would still suck at solving perpendicular line problems and dividing polynomials or whatever the fuck.

If it were up to me, I would have been asleep hours ago. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have to take Math or go into any field related to Math. Lip told me that Statistics was harder than this, but I didn’t want to find out how much harder; Trigonometry was biting me in the ass already.

I closed my Math textbook with my unfinished homework inside, thinking to myself that Lip could probably help me with a couple of things before he leaves in the morning.

My History textbook was opened to the page with my incomplete ten-question assignment when I felt a pair of hands snake around my chest and a pair of lips attached to my neck. Mickey was awake again – or maybe he just never went to sleep. Still, a part of me was glad that he was here, or I would have ripped up the couch at some point.

When I turned around to face him, he had that sneaky grin on his face. It was a school night, but that didn’t stop Mickey from wanting to get off. Apparently, it didn’t stop me, either.

“You wanna distract me?” I signed to him, and Mickey nodded back. Of course, he did.

Mickey leaned in and reached for my lips with his, and I welcome his soft, wet lips. We were kind of exclusive, as far as the Gallagher household is aware, but Mickey liked having our intimate moments at night when everyone else was asleep. If we’re being honest, I liked that, too. We never had sex or anything in an actual bed just yet, but seeing as how my three brothers all share a room with me, it wouldn’t feel appropriate.

I turned my body some more so I could kiss Mickey properly. This angle was definitely better, even if it wasn’t really much of an angle anymore. Mickey’s hands found my neck and shoulders, and the feeling of his soft finger pads against the hairs of my skin sent shivers through my veins. My cock was trying to stiffen underneath my jeans and boxers. All I wanted right now was to release the beast, because Mickey was completely turning me on right now.

Blue eyes found my green ones as I stood up from off the couch. “Van. Now.” I signed to him, and a wide grin began to spread on Mickey’s face.

It’s not warm enough in the nighttime in May as it is in, say, July, but every time Mickey and I go out here to kiss and fuck each other, it feels like summer has been here the whole time, taking several peeks from the horizon.

I love summer. I wish it was here already so I won’t have to do this fucking school work, but I guess I’ll just cross that bridge when I come to it.

I closed the door behind us once we were inside before we joined our lips together again. Mickey’s smile is especially bright tonight, although the sky is as dark as a forest cave. Whatever was going through his mind, I welcome it. Anything to keep Mickey happy and make up for thirteen years of torture.

Mickey giggled a bit as I separated our lips from each other and removed his shirt. His skin was insanely soft. Mickey’s body in general is a blessing – muscular arms, soft tummy, thick ass – the perfect package.

Fuck, I probably shouldn’t have thought about his ass too soon into our make-out session; now I just want to feel him around me.

My lips traveled along the skin on his chin, on his neck, and down to his chest. Mickey sighed a couple of times. God, I love the sound of Mickey’s orgasmic voice. He’s ashamed of what his voice might sound like because he can’t hear it himself, but I personally don’t think anything is wrong with him. He’s perfect just the way he is, whether or not he even realizes it.

I sucked on the skin on his tummy, leaving Mickey a shivering mess. His skin had a satisfying taste to it that stuck to my tongue the more I licked and sucked on his skin. My mouth was low enough to reach Mickey’s pelvic area, and I began to unbutton his jeans and shove them down his legs. Jesus Christ, his legs were perfect. My mouth watered as I noticed Mickey’s ass cheeks from underneath him.

Patience was usually a thing I had, but not tonight.

I bit and sucked at Mickey’s hip for a little bit, and that made Mickey squirm and groan in pleasure. Just the image of Mickey’s ass in my head was overpowering, though I was yet to actually seeing it since he was laying on his back. I grabbed both of his legs and twisted him around until he was on his stomach, his ass in perfect view just the way I like it.

Mickey had a huge grin on his face now, and he and I both knew that Mickey’s bubble butt was too much to handle – for me, anyway.

My lips found Mickey’s neck, and one of my hands went down to Mickey’s ass just to squeeze at it. Mickey liked it when I did that. At the feel of my hand, his ass muscles began to clench. I just wanted to be in him right so I can reminisce on the feeling itself.

So I ran my tongue and lips along his back, not wasting one second to make it all the way down to his lower back where the curve of his butt started. Mickey wiggled his butt for me, wanting me to fuck him already. Trust me, I wanted to fuck Mickey more than anything, but his perfect globes were on my mind; they needed worshiping.

Mickey moaned as my tongue wiped a wet stripe along his skin and against his ass crack. I began to suck on his left cheek, biting down on it ever so slightly. Mickey continued to move underneath me, making an attempt to grab his own dick and jerk himself off. Of course, I swatted his arm away and signed to him, “not yet,” making Mickey reluctantly remove his hand from off himself.

I sat up a bit to take my own clothes off, and once I was completely naked with Mickey, I returned to sucking a hickey onto his butt and licking at it as much as I could. Mickey was getting more impatient as time passed, but I enjoyed making him beg and wait while I still could.

A second later, I grabbed the condom and put it on my dick, stroking at it a bit and moaning at the pressure that was building up inside. I was completely hard, and I could come from stroking myself and staring down at Mickey’s ass, but that would just ruin the fun for Mickey, who was waiting for said hard dick to go inside his ass.

So once the condom was secured on my dick, I took some lube and covered three of my fingers with it. I used my dry hand to pull Mickey up a bit. He got on his elbows and knees, his hole aimed in my direction. God, he was fucking beautiful like this.

One lubed finger went inside, and Mickey released a grunt from his lips. If only there was a mirror in here so I could see how flushed Mickey’s face looked right now. My index finger swirled around in there, hitting Mickey’s prostate once. Mickey’s body began to move some, relishing at the feeling of my finger alone. Another finger went inside, followed by a third moments later. Mickey loved my fingers inside him, but he knew that wasn’t enough for him.

Once Mickey’s hole was lubed and stretched enough, I grabbed some more lube to spread on my dick. I licked my lips at Mickey’s ass angled up for me. For as long as we’re boyfriends – I hope that will be forever, honestly – I will worship every part of Mickey’s body and beyond.

Not even just sexually, either. Mickey’s a masterpiece, a piece of art that should have one of those _don’t touch_ signs near it like the ones at the museum. I mean, anyone’s allowed to ruffle his hair or put a hand on his shoulder in a friendly manner, anyway. I was mainly referring to the abuse he’s had to endure for most of his childhood. He didn’t deserve the abuse. He didn’t deserve the hatred spat against him. What did he even do to deserve it, him being deaf? That’s bullshit.

I feel so much closer to Mickey every passing day. Seeing him and his sister at their new home for the first time, witnessing first-hand what bullshit Terry Milkovich puts them through, inviting them to stay with us until Terry was dealt with, Mickey hanging out with me and the rest of my siblings, our first kiss, our first fuck – everything brought me so much closer to Mickey. Worshiping everything about him – body, mind, and soul – was something I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

My hands gripped onto Mickey’s hips, and my dick began to press inside Mickey’s hole, earning a moan from Mickey’s lips. Once I bottomed out, he was doing everything he could to tame his heavy pants. One of my hands rubbed his back soothingly. Mickey has become more accustomed to the magic my dick could make, but that didn’t mean I would stop comforting him.

I gave him some time to adjust before I started to pull out of him for a moment, leaving the tip on the inside. Mickey’s shoulders tensed, waiting for me to make my next move. I waited for about a couple of minutes before I slammed back inside him, earning a whine from Mickey’s lips. His voice was pure music to my ears, and I would do anything just to hear it some more.

I pounded in him a little softer but picked up the pace a bit, and Mickey’s butt pushed back against my dick, wanting it to hit his prostate. I seemed to have reached it at one point, for his sighs got a little louder, and his breath began to hitch. I sighed myself, the sound of Mickey’s orgasmic sounds sending sparks throughout my body.

Eventually, I went a little faster, the slapping sounds between Mickey’s ass and my hips getting a little louder in the process. Mickey sighed and panted some more, and I closed my eyes so the sounds can have their effect on me. My own orgasm was building up, and I already knew Mickey’s was, too. Only Mickey could make me feel like this; none of the other guys I fucked before was even close to a match.

Mickey was spending his time straightening his back and twisting at the feel of my dick hitting his prostate, and the sensation going through his body was too much for him to handle. Without warning, I heard him shout my name after the couple of grunts that escaped his mouth. “Ian!”

By the time that happened, we both reached our climaxes at the same time.

It was astounding – breathtaking, really. Mickey’s voice was so clear when he said my name. That was the first time I’ve ever heard him speak to anyone. He may have said a word or two when he was a toddler, and the hearing loss was so new to him, but other than that, he actually spoke for the first time since I met him.

When I looked down at him, he seemed to have stilled in place. He probably felt a little embarrassed about his voice and didn’t want me to have the wrong impression of him or something like that. I didn’t like how insecure Mickey was around me sometimes; he didn’t have to feel secure around me. I love him. I know a great deal about him. He doesn’t have to worry about a thing.

Mickey started to collapse, his legs weakening on him and my dick sliding out of him, and curled up in a ball on top of the blanket that was underneath us. If the look on his face was any indication that he was embarrassed, then say my assumption has been confirmed. “Mickey?” I signed to him, laying down next to him and tugging him closer to me. Mickey still hugged himself tightly, and that was my cue to wrap my arms around his bare body. “Mickey, are you okay?” I signed, trying to get his attention.

He didn’t reply right away, but he did nod his head.

From the way he looked away from me, though, it didn’t seem like his true answer.

“You don’t have to feel insecure around me,” I signed to him, because he and I knew we had the same thing on our mind. Mickey still didn’t turn around, and it made me a little sad to know that he was vulnerable to his own insecurities. “Mick?” I signed again. “Please, Mick, just look at me.”

Mickey didn’t move, so I decided to crawl over his body and lay down facing him. When I did, though, Mickey’s eyes started to close. He looked so ashamed. If only there was a way to comfort him about this.

I had wiped my wet hand on the blanket below us before I placed it on the back of Mickey’s neck, allowing the warmth the spread through that spot of skin. Mickey bit on the inside of his cheek at the touch and let out a breathless exhale. I scooted closer to him and wrapped my arms around him once again, gently smoothing my hands on his bare back. This time, Mickey scooted closer to me and hid his face in the crook of my neck.

I was the main person Mickey opened up to. Sometimes that’s a good thing, given some of the circumstances Mickey’s unfortunately experiencing. Mickey wasn’t the kind of person who would be okay with going up to anyone he wanted to and talk about how shitty his life was. He didn’t know too many people he’d be willing to share his life story with nor did he believe that people would understand him or take him seriously. Only so many people would be willing to sit down with him and actually comfort him in the best ways they can.

Maybe confiding in one person is good for Mickey. Maybe opening up to one person is more of an advantage than a disadvantage. Maybe that one person is more sympathetic and empathetic than you’d expect them to be. Maybe that one person is everything you needed in a bond as strong as mine with Mickey.

We were laying like that for a few minutes, and I felt one of Mickey’s hands reach the left side of my chest, pressing up against the skin firmly. My heart was beating against my rib cage, and I knew Mickey could feel it, too. He didn’t need to hear my heart beating from some fancy machine to know how much I love him.

Mickey’s hand remained there for a couple of moments, and finally, he lifted his head some so his eyes met mine. Some moisture was in his eyes, but not enough for him to start crying. I watched as he gulped down a lump in his throat, his hand removing itself from over my heart so he could sign. “Ian?” he asked me. A part of me was a little let down that he didn’t say it, but I respect his reasoning, and I didn’t want to put any pressure on him.

“Yeah?”

Mickey was hesitant to sign anything for a minute, but when he did, I wasn’t sure on how to react to it. “Is there anything you really wanted but you can’t seem to get?”

Believe me, I want every fucking thing. I want to continue being Mickey’s boyfriend and Mandy’s best friend. I want to be as smart as Lip. I want for our family to stop being dirt broke all of the time. I want Frank to just fucking disappear. I want Mickey and Mandy to stop getting abused all of the time. I want to relive my days training for the army…

Fuck, it’s been a while since I’ve done ROTC training. Being in the army was my number one goal in life, something I aspired doing since I watched the war movies growing up.

A year ago, all of those opportunities have been washed away, and I’ll never get them back.

I had no idea how Mickey even found out about this until I saw him sign, “Debbie told me about what happened when you, um…”

Normally I would get upset at someone for exposing my business to someone else, but Debbie is very understanding of the situation. She kept her space often – not as much as probably Carl, but she did – and when she did come to talk to me, she didn’t address the situation. On one of her good days, and maybe some of mine, she would talk about something she saw on TV or a funny story that happened in school.

Plus, if Mickey and I were going to be boyfriends, we had to grab a fair understanding of each other.

I looked up when Mickey started to sign something else. “We can still make it out of here, can we?” He looked a little unsure of himself when he asked that.

To be fairly honest, I am, too. Lip and I have had conversations about this months ago. Of course, being the genius of the family, Lip has platters upon platters of benefits for him to pursue. He was the main one getting out of the South Side, out of the Gallaghers. I envied him a lot. I still do. I want to be successful in something, feel satisfied with where my life is. Right now, things aren’t looking up for me.

I reached for one of Mickey’s hands and held it firmly in mine. At least I had one good thing looking up for me, and whether we were a permanent thing or not, I will always be glad to have Mickey in my life.

We inched our faces close together and gave each other a slow, passionate kiss. I could feel tears trying to sting my eyes. _Goddamn it, Ian, not today_. I’ve seen Mickey cry so many times, but ironically, I didn’t want Mickey to see my own tears. So after we kissed, I brought Mickey into a tight hug and allowed a stray tear to fall down my cheek.

* * *

Ian was making me feel worried for him. After last night’s conversation about the army and our futures and shit, he seemed completely out of it. I didn’t mean to make him cry and shit; it’s just that I would have never thought he had gotten into the situation Debbie previously told me about.

He didn’t mess shit up on purpose or anything. He just wanted to free himself from his goddamn mother. He didn’t ask to be a part of his family his mother and Frank created. It just…happened. Now he can’t even join the army anymore because he used Lip’s identity, and all of his dreams are fucking shattered.

This is what late night sex does to you, folks.

I watched him carefully as he struggled over some Math homework placed in front of him. I’m not an expert on shit myself unless money is involved, but some of this stuff, I learned from reading Mandy’s textbooks and on the internet. Plus, Ian had a rough night, and he’s done so much for me already. Why not return the favor, you know?

I pushed my breakfast plate to the side for a bit and tapped him on the arm, grabbing his attention. He turned his head towards me, and I grabbed his homework, looking over some of the questions in the book. Two-thirds of these problems were incorrect, but most of them have only been completed this morning anyway.

I corrected as many as I could before Fiona came in the kitchen, all dressed for Patsy’s and carrying Liam in her arms. She seemed to be impressed by my helping Ian with his assignments, so she gave me a smile, followed by something along the lines of a _thank you_ or some shit.

Mandy walked over to the fridge to grab some orange juice, listening to something Fiona was saying over her shoulder. By the time Fiona finished, Mandy turned to me and signed, “Sheila’s got the flu, so we gotta babysit.” Mandy still had a few more days to fully recover, so she’s staying home today to watch Liam, too.

Fine by me. Unless Liam’s not waking me up while I’m napping or setting the house on fire, I don’t give a fuck.

Actually, he’s a decent kid. Other than Ian and Debbie, he’s probably my favorite Gallagher out of the bunch.

Carl and Lip came downstairs with jackets on. Apparently, it had started raining almost two hours after Ian and I got out of the van to wash up and then sleep with everyone else. Good thing we got out of there when we did, or else the smell of rain and sex would be stuck on our bodies, and someone in the house would fucking notice.

Then again, I secretly didn’t mind.

Fiona was patting Ian on the shoulder, urging him to gather his things and prepare for school, it seemed like. Ian sighed and just closed his books and put his papers in his folders. He didn’t complete any of his homework, which was unlike him because he would prioritize this shit regularly, especially on the weekends.

Though I do kinda blame myself for urging him into sex last night. This Math could have been done by now.

I left one question the way Ian had it, but for the most part, I corrected almost all of them. Ian thanked me with a kiss on the lips before putting his Math away in his backpack. Mandy, from a distance, smirked at me, and I just flipped her off in response. Nosy fucking cunt.

Not too long afterwards, all of the Gallaghers minus Liam were out of the house, leaving Mandy and I to wash the dishes and put away leftover food. The little guy was so energetic on a fucking rainy ass day, but we still played with him all morning. The kid apparently had a thing for blocks and Legos, and we had to play safely and accordingly and shit if we didn’t want to get shit from Fiona after seeing how much of a mess we made.

It was about one o’clock when Liam started getting tired. The sky was extremely dark for the afternoon, and Liam had gotten restless earlier. We were watching one of the DVDs Fiona bought for him, and about halfway into it, Liam’s upper body collapsed on my lap, with his eyelids closing.

“Aw, Mick,” Mandy signed, smiling as she saw a worn-out Liam on my fucking lap. “He loves you.”

“Fuck off.”

“What? It’s cute. You’ve gotten all lovable and shit ever since you and Ian hooked up.”

I’ll admit that Ian’s made me soften up a little, but I would never admit it aloud to my sister.

I sighed before I picked the little toddler up in my arms. He wasn’t as heavy as I expected him to be, which was weird considering that the little guy likes to eat a lot of cheesy goldfish and cookies.

Once I went up the stairs with Liam in my lap, I carried him all the way to the boys’ room where his bed was, gently placing him down on his bed and covering him up with the covers. He reminded me of Ian so much: someone pure as fucking gold who was unfortunately born in a fucked-up family. It sucks that the Gallaghers ended up having a father like Frank, especially.

Whatever brought me to doing this, I wasn’t sure, but I placed a soft kiss to Liam’s temple. Ian’s the only guy I’ve kissed, but that was out of romantic love and sexual desire and shit, too. Now that I’m an honorary Gallagher, as people like Fiona and Debbie have insisted, I feel myself expressing my care for other people aside from my boyfriend.

It felt good. It felt really fucking good.

I walked out of the boys’ room, slowly closing the door behind me, before heading back downstairs. I could have walked all the way down if it hadn’t been for the sudden tension in Mandy’s shoulders and the fright shown on Mandy’s face that stopped me in my tracks.

And from the top of the stairs, I could also see Dad standing seven steps away with a gun in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The storm is back - literally and figuratively. Oops.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Comments and kudos are appreciated. Here is my [ask box](http://promqueen-and-hairgel.tumblr.com/ask) if you have questions about any of my stories, prompts you want written, conversations you want to start, etc.


	43. Danger Zone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This was all of my fears and suspicions slapping me in the face, and I knew it was the same for Mickey as well. Dad’s known about this for a while, it seemed like, judging by the thumbnails of the other videos he and Horris managed to collect. They recorded every moment they could find – any moment between Ian and Mickey that could potentially harm them both, maybe harm Mickey a little more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna warn you right now (like, major trigger warning): this chapter is very heavy and has a lot of violence and gay bashing in it. If this makes you feel uncomfortable, then I'm not sure if this is for you. Just a heads up.

I regretted every step I took towards the front door that led Dad into the house. I regretted every single one.

At first, I didn’t even know it was him. I took a peek out the window to see who it was, but the figures I saw by the door weren’t clear enough for me to make out. I assumed that it was either some guys Frank got into some shit with, or maybe some random ass door-to-door seller wanting us to look into some fucking real estate. Now that the South Side was experiencing the effects of gentrification, people were leaving left and right, and even if I didn’t know the Gallaghers for that long, I still didn’t want them to experience the same fate.

Dad’s car wasn’t outside, either, which was weird. I assumed that, after he walked in the house with one of his henchmen at his side, that his car was probably parked in another block or something like that. Either way, I was scared shitless about what was going to happen, especially since Liam was sleeping upstairs and that no one noticed him walk to the Gallagher front door yet.

Two guns were pointed at me: one from Dad and one from the henchman – fucking Horris, I think. I couldn’t run or call Fiona, or else one of the guns would begin to fire. The last thing I wanted was bullets flying around here again, especially with a sleeping toddler in the house.

“Long time, no see, Mands.” Dad greeted me. “Still racking it up with those fuckin’ Gallaghers still, aren’t ya?” I didn’t respond. The last words that my mouth or Mickey’s ended up with some kind of consequence the last time, and now that both Dad and Horris had guns aimed at me, I don’t want to risk anything else.

A moment of silence passed before Horris had the fucking nerve to laugh. “She’s a little quieter this time around, ain’t she?”

“Gallaghers softened my kids up,” Dad responded, his eyes focused on me. “They put fuckin’ stories in her mind there, Horris.” His next statement was addressed to me. “You think now that you’re out the house and shit that you can do fuck all you want, like snitchin’ on me to the fuckin’ cops?”

Every fiber in my body hoped there was a Chicago police car outside somewhere, videotaping everything from the outside in. Someone had to be here helping us, right?

“My daughter,” Dad continued in his deep, gruff voice, “you will never get rid of me. I’m the reason your ungrateful ass exists. I could have told your mother to have that fuckin’ abortion years ago, if it wasn’t for her constant want for another chick to bring home to the nest. For once in my life, I let her have what she wanted.” Dad laughed. “But now, all I see before me is a symbol of fuckin’ betrayal to the Milkovich name.” He shook his head. “You and your brother disgust me.”

My blood began to boil. I always had some kind of suspicion that Dad never wanted me in the first place, but to actually hear it come out of his mouth was as sickening and disappointing as the thought itself. Sometimes I feel lucky to be here, especially after knowing that Mama wanted to have me. Then I end up thinking about being born into a world of hatred, most of it coming from my father’s side of the family, and I wonder, why did I have to be born with a dad as conniving as he is?

“Speak of the devil,” Horris spoke, breaking the silence. Dad’s eyes went up towards the stairs, and I followed his gaze to see Mickey standing at the top of the steps. He looked very frightened, and I wanted to tell him to run, but one of the guns would probably fire, and I didn’t want anyone getting hurt.

Dad chuckled at the sight of my brother. “Well ain’t it the pussy-whipped spawn himself,” he spoke, though Mickey was still confused and scared as to what was going on. Almost simultaneously, Horris walked up the stairs while Terry called to Mickey, “come on down here, son. Speak with your old man for a minute, eh?”

Horris had a hold of Mickey’s arm before he could even escape, and his other hand contained the gun that was digging into Mickey’s side. Mickey looked from the gun to Dad to me, biting down on his bottom lip and letting Horris drag him down the stairs.

Once Mickey was in the room, Horris let go of him, but he stood behind the both of us in case we had any ideas to escape. A part of me itched for my phone that was on the charger right now, but it was sitting near the television, and Dad was a little closer than I was. Mickey stood as close to me as he could, our arms rubbing up against each other, and that was the only safety that kept me ground.

Dad took out a lighter and a cigarette, getting ready to take a drag as he stared the both of us down. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a while, which serves him right considering that he tried running away from the cops for so long. The frown lines on his forehead seemed to have deepened over time, probably from the frustration and shame he feels towards us. His hands were very rough, like he rubbed his hands together with sand. He was the emblem of everything that people from the outside looking in on the Milkovich family thought we were.

In reality, it’s all just him. Maybe the ideas worn off him and onto our older brothers, but for the most part, it was all just him.

“I see you’re making yourselves at home over here,” Dad began, taking a drag of his cigarette. From the corner of my eye, I could see Mickey shaking just a little bit. “Got yourselves a nice, new roof and all that cheesy shit.”

I gulped. “Fiona feeds us,” I muttered out. The last time I rubbed the Gallaghers’ good deeds in Dad’s face, I ended up getting a smack in the face. I was honestly expecting another one, but at the same time, I didn’t want neither me or Mickey to get injured again.

Dad blew out a ring of smoke. “Fuckin’ housewife?”

“She’s not married.”

“But she’s watching the rest of you wimps, ain’t she?” Dad asked, and I didn’t reply. “Shit right there? Housewife shit.”

There was a two-minute silence between everyone, aside from Dad’s exhales and Horris’s switching of his feet on the hardwood floor. I didn’t know why they were even here. What the hell did he want with us that he didn’t get a chance to do when he tortured us the last time?

“I see you’re over here watching the little one,” Dad stated, taking a step closer to us. Mickey slowly inched back as well. “Gallaghers are over here making you change diapers and wear stupid ass aprons like those white picket fence families and shit?” Neither one of us responded. Dad shrugged. “Kinda faggy, if you ask me.”

As Dad took a drag of his cigarette, Mickey and I exchanged a look. I didn’t know about Mickey, but I felt like, for some reason, he was catching onto something, and I wasn’t going to like the outcome of it, regardless.

“Speaking of which,” Dad added, removing his cigarette from his lips and putting it out in the ashtray that was sitting on the table. He then proceeded to reach a hand out to Horris behind us. “Yo, you got the evidence?”

Mickey and I turned our heads and watched as Horris removed his cell phone from out of his leather jacket pocket. Horris then looked up at Dad and gave him a disgusted look. “I want this terminated when we’re done with this shit, you know?”

Dad nodded, understandably. “Trust me,” he muttered to him, ignoring the fact that Mickey and I were standing right here, “don’t nobody want this foul, disgusting shit in their presence, either.”

He took the phone from Horris’s possession and tapped on the screen several times. Once he found what he was looking for, his eyes lifted up from the phone to look over at Mickey, and that’s when my heart began to beat even faster. “Son, let me ask you something,” Dad asked, looking genuinely confused. Mickey focused on his lips to comprehend what Dad was trying to say. “You wouldn’t do anything to upset your old man, would ya?”

I turned my head and watched as Mickey stared back at Dad nervously. When Mickey didn’t answer back, I turned my head around just in time to notice Dad nodding his head, mainly to himself. “I knew there was something different about you, Mick,” he continued, pacing around a bit. “Your brothers, they turned out like gems. Fine gentlemen – future kings, I’ll tell you that.” He stopped, his eyes burning holes into Mickey’s face. There was a brief pause before Dad shook his head again, this time with a large exhale escaping his nostrils. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

As Dad looked down at the phone, I made this my opportunity to speak up. “Dad, you know Mickey can’t hear. He –“

“I want you to look at this,” Dad interrupted me, his concentration still on Mickey, “and tell me what you see.” I leaned closer to Mickey until I saw a video on the small phone screen. It looked as though it was taken outside the Gallagher house’s window late at night.

And, as clear as day, I could make out Ian and Mickey near the middle of the kitchen, both unclothed.

This was all of my fears and suspicions slapping me in the face, and I knew it was the same for Mickey as well. Dad’s known about this for a while, it seemed like, judging by the thumbnails of the other videos he and Horris managed to collect. They recorded every moment they could find – any moment between Ian and Mickey that could potentially harm them both, maybe harm Mickey a little more.

Dad pressed play, and the audio began to play along with the video. Other than the cars driving along on the street, the only sounds that were heard throughout the room were the sounds of Mickey’s moans as Ian pounded deeper inside him. I didn’t know whether to feel scared or uncomfortable anymore, now that I was having the opportunity to literally see and hear my older brother taking it in the ass.

I also wasn’t sure how Mickey never saw the camera in the window. Then again, like I said, he was taking it in the ass and wouldn’t have noticed right away anyway.

Still, that didn’t make the situation any better.

Dad had showed us another video, in addition to three candid photos, before he turned the thing off completely. He didn’t even look disgusted anymore; he looked…pissed. Very pissed. Not like _the Bears losing the championship_ pissed; more like _getting robbed on pay day_ kind of pissed. “You wanna explain to me what the fuck that shit was?” he asked Mickey, who was now trembling in fear.

I looked back and forth between Mickey and Dad. The latter was going to throw the first punch any moment. I couldn’t let him hurt Mickey. I couldn’t. “Dad, please,” I begged him. “Mickey didn’t want to do anything to –“

“You fuckin’ stay out of this.” Dad responded with an index finger pointed in my direction. A lump formed in my throat, and tears threatened to leave my eyes as Dad returned his gaze to Mickey. “I want you to fuckin’ tell me something right now, Mick. I mean it.”

Mickey gulped a little bit before he raised both of his hands to sign. However, he was cut off with a slap in the face from Dad. “Answer me, damn it!”

“Jut let him sign, Dad. He doesn’t want to –“

Without warning, the end of Horris’s gun was placed at the back of my head. A tear fell from my face. I felt so fucking helpless. All I wanted to do was defend my brother. That shouldn’t be too much to ask, should it?

“One more word out of you, and the world will never hear you again,” Dad said, and I closed my eyes for a moment, letting more tears fall. “You fuckin’ understand me?” I tried staying silent, but I could hear my own cries escape my lips. Wherever Fiona, Ian, or the neighbors were, I just hope they’ll be here any moment.

When I opened my eyes again, Dad was staring at Mickey again, expecting some kind of answer. “You better open your fuckin’ mouth before I make you do it.”

Mickey was this close to crying, and I didn’t blame him. This wasn’t the way he wanted to come out to anyone, let alone come out to Dad. At least with Ian, it was accidental. Hell, Ian actually cares about Mickey’s feelings, whereas Dad just wants him to out himself out of Mickey’s will – all because he’s a homophobic asshole who’s willing to break the skull of the first gay guy he sees.

Immediately, I grabbed Mickey’s hand and held it firmly. It wasn’t doing much good for our situation, but Mickey needed me. He needed some support system to assist him with his coming out process, especially seeing as how our dad managed to find out about Mickey’s sexuality in the worse way possible.

Mickey looked over at me, his eyes covered in a layer of tears that are ready to fall any moment. I squeezed Mickey’s hand. He had me. He had Ian and Fiona. He had the rest of the Gallaghers. He had Kevin and Veronica. Fuck Dad and his conditional love for the Milkovich sons, because if he really loved my older brothers, he wouldn’t beat the pulp out of them because of their sexualities.

I felt Mickey’s thumb rub against the top of my hand, but the rest of his arm was still shaky. He looked at me for another few moments before he turned his head back around towards Dad, his chin trembling and his heart beating against his rib cage.

Finally, with a deep breath and whatever intrepidity he had left, he spoke timidly. “I’m…gay.”

The room was dangerously silent for a moment. Mickey’s body still trembled, and I kept a firm hold of his hand. The gun that was once on my head lowered the moment Mickey spoke. Dad stood still, staring at Mickey. He looked calm, which wasn’t a good sign, ironically.

Dad broke the silence with a hysterical laugh, a laugh that made the hairs stand up on my neck. He returned his gaze back in Mickey’s direction, and while his laughter stopped, his smile remained, which was freaking me out. “It’s no wonder Margaret wanted to keep you,” he spoke lowly, his smile eventually falling. “It’s no wonder she wanted to pop another one out. My big boys, they weren’t enough for her, were they?”

I felt Mickey’s hand grip onto mine a little tighter, and I held his hand closer to me as we both took a step back.

“She,” Dad spoke, followed by a scoff, “she wanted one of those mama’s boys, huh?” Mickey let out a shaky breath, and another tear fell against my cheek. Dad huffed out a laugh. “I knew you were different, but I didn’t know you weren’t a fuckin’ Milkovich, you know?” Dad walked closer to us, and we both took a step back. “You’re a disgrace to the family name, you know that?” he asked, pointing a finger at Mickey. “All those times I thought you everything I knew, and for what? The fuck was it for, Mick?”

I tugged Mickey’s arm closer to me, and Mickey found himself standing behind me a bit. We backed up a couple more steps, but unfortunately, Horris blocked our way into the kitchen so we couldn’t escape.

“For you to play fuckin’ house with the Gallaghers?” Dad asked, his voice eventually getting louder. “For you to soften up on me? For you to open your fuckin’ legs and take it like the fuckin’ faggot you are, Mick?”

At that moment, I felt Mickey release his hand from mine in an attempt to dodge Dad and run towards the door. However, Dad already had a hold of Mickey’s left arm and kept pulling Mickey closer to him. It was a tug-of-war match between Mickey and Dad, and seconds into it, I can already see red marks forming on Mickey’s skin.

“Dad, stop!” I shouted, running over to them only to get stopped by Horris and his incredibly strong arms.

Mickey tried to kick Dad with one of his legs and somehow make a run for it at the same time, but the force Dad had on him was too strong for Mickey to handle. Eventually, Dad yanked Mickey closer to him, an audible crack being heard underneath Dad’s growls and Mickey’s cries. Mickey had fallen to the floor at that point, and that’s when Dad proceeded to punch and kick him repeatedly, ignoring Mickey’s screams in pain.

This time, I shrugged out of Horris’s hold and kicked him in the leg, running over to Dad and shoving him off of Mickey. I successfully distracted him from beating Mickey even more, but then he started to charge towards me. I ran towards the kitchen only to fall on one of my knees, and that’s when Dad started to punch me in the face and kick me in the sides. Everything hurt like a fucking bitch, but I’d rather take the fall than leave Mickey to bleed out by himself.

I started feeling light-headed after the last four punches to the face, and with a few kicks into Mickey’s legs, the torture was over. Dad and Horris exchanged some words before the duo left the house, leaving us a throbbing mess on the hardwood floor.

I couldn’t move. Everything was fucking hurting me. My knee felt swollen after falling on the floor. I think a shit ton of blood was coming out of my nose right now. My lower jaw felt like it was chipping away. I might as well be swallowing one of my teeth right now.

Mickey was still screaming and crying behind me, which gave me the motivation to move so I can check on him. It wasn’t easy. My entire body was swollen and covered in bruises and blood. My brother needed me, though, and I needed to help him, because something was clearly wrong other than getting forced to out himself.

“Mick,” I croaked, almost collapsing right next to him. His right arm was covering his left, and there seemed to be a pool of blood forming on the floor underneath him. I placed my hand on the side of his face, soothingly rubbing my thumb against his cheek. “Mick, look at me. Mickey.”

He continued to cry – scream, rather. He hid his injured arm and kept it close to him as possible. I didn’t even want to observe the damage that was done on his arm, though I do know that it’s very serious. Still, my chin trembled at the sight of my distressed brother. Our older brothers told me a little bit about what happened on the Fourth of July when the accident occurred. For some reason, I don’t remember what Mickey was like when he first went deaf, most likely because I was so young when it happened. I just knew how tragic the incident was.

People don’t really understand how much I love my brother. Yeah, we’re dicks to each other, but we have each other’s backs. Mickey especially has been through some traumatizing shit, and this only adds to the list.

I looked around for a phone, realizing that the Gallaghers didn’t keep a house phone with them aside from their cell phones. So I tried as best as I could to get to my phone. It took about a few minutes, and just hearing Mickey scream in pain just made it feel even longer. Finally, though, I grabbed the phone from off my charger and dialed Fiona’s cell phone number.

“Mandy?” I heard Fiona’s voice on the other line, and that’s when I started to cry a little bit.

“F-Fiona,” I stammered back.

“Mandy, what’s wrong?” Fiona asked me. “Talk to me.”

How the fuck can someone like Fiona have a calming fucking voice while my brother and I are literally bleeding our asses off?

“Fiona, you need to come home right now,” I told her in a rushed panic. “M-M-My dad, he – Mickey and I are hurt. He fucking came into the house and beat us –“

The combination of fury and concern mixed in Fiona’s voice. “Mandy, slow down,” she stated, and in the background, it seemed like she was in some back room getting her stuff out of her locker. “I’m coming over there, but I’m gonna call Vee and send her to the house. She has a spare key, so she’s not intruding –“

“Fiona, please, you have to hurry,” I panicked, looking ahead at Mickey, who hasn’t gotten up off the floor yet. “Mickey’s seriously hurt this time. He doesn’t want to move, and I don’t want to hurt him –“

“Okay, sweetie,” Fiona replied, trying to calm me down. “I’ll be on my way. Just hang tight for me, and make sure you keep Liam away from any damage.”

“He’s in his room; we put him to bed before he arrived.”

“Alright. Keep watch over Mickey, and I’ll be there in a flash. And call the police so we can update them on what happened.” She paused and sighed. “Don’t worry, Mandy. It’s gonna be okay, I promise.” With that, we both hung up on each other, and I turned my attention back to a crying Mickey. I started to crawl over to him, but my knee was seriously hurting me, so I collapsed on the floor.

I heard little footsteps on the stairs, and when I looked up, Liam was awake from the short nap he had taken. God, this was the wrong fucking time for a toddler to be in the room right now. “Liam, go back to your room, buddy. You can’t be here, Liam. Go back!” Liam didn’t hesitate to leave the room once again.

My eyes fell upon Mickey’s body. He was still crying and trembling, and the sound was devastating to hear. Dad’s hurt him too many times before, but I didn’t want him getting away with this, either.

So I dialed 9-1-1, as Fiona instructed. In the process, I sent a text message to Ian.

Within about ten to fifteen minutes, the neighbors from next door were walking through the back door, stopping only halfway through the kitchen to witness the two of us laying down on the floor. “Holy shit,” Vee spoke first, storming over to Mickey first and then Mandy. “What the hell happened here?”

Kevin looked back and forth between both of us and shook his head. “I’m calling the police –“

“I did,” I croaked out, trying to get up off the floor but wincing at the feel of my knee.

Vee shot her head up and me. “Sweetie, I don’t want you moving too much, okay?” she spoke to me, and I nodded slowly, careful as to not move my head too much, or else my head injuries would feel worse. Vee crawled closer to me and observed the injuries on my head and arms. “Where are you hurt?”

I winced again as I tried to comfortably sit on the floor in front of her. “Uh…my knee, my face…um –“

A shout from Mickey interrupted our thoughts. Vee whirled her head around and noticed Kevin trying to assist Mickey. “Kev, leave that boy alone.”

“I was trying to help him up.”

At that moment, the front door began to open. Fiona was having a conversation with Ian about ditching the last hour of class to come home to us when the two of them turned their heads in our direction. “Shit,” Fiona groaned, getting down on her knees and fuming at Mickey’s form.

“It’s worse than I thought, Fi,” Vee told Fiona, standing up and retrieving her cell phone from out of her pocket. “I’m calling the hospital. Mickey needs an ambulance, and Mandy’s having a hard time standing up.”

Ian knelt down to take a look at me, to make sense of what just happened, but I was too focused on Fiona trying to get Mickey to show her his injury. She successfully got him to sit up, but Mickey refused to move his hand from in front of his left arm. And every time Fiona tried to get his attention, snaking her hand closer to Mickey’s, Mickey would shake his head repetitively, more tears falling down his cheeks.

“Mickey? Honey, I just want to take a look.” Fiona spoke softly, trying to place a hand on Mickey’s shoulder. Mickey continued to sob, and I could literally hear my heart shattering into pieces.

I gulped and cleared my throat before I told Fiona, “his arm…his arm is broken, Fiona.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this particular scene in mind for a while since I started writing this story, but I'm not sure how people will necessarily take it. Some moments were unexpected but naturally came out when I typed this. Which ones? I'm not sure.
> 
> And for those asking why I'm bringing Ian into this, well...it's something like this that's gonna trigger his bipolar disorder. I was going to wait and spoil it later, but this is a very tragic experience, for Ian to see his best friend and boyfriend get beaten like this. With Ian's particular storyline, that still needs more planning, but the build-up towards it is what I'm mainly working on now.
> 
> I apologize if this was traumatizing for people to read. The next chapter is going to pick up where we left off, but from Ian's perspective (idk if it'll be the whole chapter or just bits of it; I'll see when I type it). But if you have any questions or anything, my [ask box](http://promqueen-and-hairgel.tumblr.com/ask) is open. Feel free to start conversations with me, and I'll engage. I hope everyone will have a good day/night.


	44. Crimson and Catastrophes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I need to be over there with them. Mickey and Mandy need me, and I need for them to be safe. Mandy told me how bad it was, but I can’t even imagine the amount of damage Terry managed to create behind our backs. At what lengths is he willing to go to further destroy their well being, their strength, their sense of hope and happiness?"

I had taken a bathroom break during one of my classes, mainly because there was a substitute for the day. She assigned the whole class a front-to-back worksheet that I couldn’t focus on right now. My body felt extremely tired, screaming something along the lines of “give me a mattress or give me a coffin.” I enjoyed the time I spent with Mickey last night, don’t get me wrong, but I could have done a little better with about five more hours of sleep as well.

Either there had to be something on the bathroom mirror, or I might have aged or some shit, judging by my reflection. Not sure. Still, I looked like complete shit. My eyes were droopy as hell, and there were dark circles underneath them, too. Damn teachers and their will to assign a shit ton of homework assignments in one night.

Two more seconds staring at my lifeless expression in the mirror, and I could have fallen face first into the sink in front of me. But then, my phone buzzed in my jeans pocket, and I went to retrieve it. Mandy had sent me a text message: _Dad came to the house today, and Mickey and I are hurt right now. It’s really bad_.

Terry Milkovich back under the Gallagher roof again? And hurting Mickey and Mandy, too?

That made my blood boil so much. What the fuck did Terry want with them? He had no business showing up at the Gallagher house – at _my_ fucking house – just to put his hands on his son and daughter, whom he treats like shit no matter what he does. Their childhoods are already long ruined; what else is there to fuck up?

As a matter of fact, take back what I said about _son and daughter_. Yeah, sure, they’re biologically his, but it’s not like he deserves them. And they don’t deserve to be stuck with him.

I need to be over there with them. Mickey and Mandy need me, and I need for them to be safe. Mandy told me how bad it was, but I can’t even imagine the amount of damage Terry managed to create behind our backs. At what lengths is he willing to go to further destroy their well being, their strength, their sense of hope and happiness?

My eyelids closed shut, and all I can hear were the sounds of Mickey and Mandy’s screams filling my imagination. I could see Terry with some inanimate object. Probably not a belt, because Terry is much worse than that – maybe a hammer or a knife, even; he could have stolen it from our kitchen, for all I knew. I just can’t see it, whatever object Terry chose to use. Even if it’s his bare hands, I couldn’t stand the sight of Mickey and Mandy struggling in his grasp.

I had to leave. I had to get over there and help them.

That in mind, I darted out of the boys’ bathroom and into the classroom to retrieve my stuff. The substitute didn’t even notice because, as usual, she dozed off during class and shit, giving the students free reign to do whatever the hell they wanted. This gave me the opportunity to pack my backpack and head back home to the Gallagher house to see what was going on.

After going to my locker, throwing some books inside, and putting on my rain jacket, I made my way out the door. I could have sworn I heard someone calling me from down the hall, but that wasn’t important. Write me up for detention for all I care, but Mickey and Mandy were the two most important things on my mind.

The sidewalks and the roads were all wet and disgusting. It didn’t even look like daytime out here. I made sure I didn’t slip in any puddles on my way down the road that led me to the Gallagher house. It felt like a longer trip than expected, but I finally made it there, my heart continuously racing like it’s a part of the Olympics.

“Ian?” When I turned my head, I noticed Fiona running down the sidewalk until she reached the porch steps. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Mandy texted me and told me what happened,” I told her, attempting to maintain my heavy breathing. “I need to see them, Fiona.”

I was about to reach for the front door handle when Fiona asked me, “did the teacher let you go?”

I didn’t answer. Disappointing Fiona was the last thing I wanted to do. She’s the mother figure of our family, and she, like many parents, expects me and my other siblings to do their best. Trust me; I want to do my best. My best is all I can do, coming from the South Side of Chicago with terrible examples of parenting in the forms of Monica and Frank.

Sometimes, doing your best in the South Side isn’t enough, though. There are many instances of that, from what I’ve seen within the past few years of my childhood. I often ask myself sometimes, what am I doing my best for anyway? I blew my chances with the army, the one thing I was the most passionate about. What else is right for me? And even if there’s something else right for me, am I even good enough to achieve it?

Fiona slumped her shoulders at my lack of response. Her hair was getting wet, and stress was written all over her face. Today – not even just _today_ , really – has been a clusterfuck of issues going around, and there was only so little time to deal with so many of them. “Ian –“

Before she could even fully respond, a scream was being heard from inside the house. That was Mickey’s scream. He was in serious pain.

When I turned back around, Fiona was coming up the stairs and opening the front door. “I’ll let it off the hook this time, Ian,” she said, inviting me in, “but I can’t have you ditchin’ class and missing out on your school work. I mean it.” I nodded. As much as school tried its hardest to kick me in the ass, I would do it if it meant that Fiona had even the smallest amount of relief going through her face.

Kev and Vee were already in the house by the time Fiona and I stepped into the living room. Mandy and Mickey were both on the floor, covered in bruises, blood, and tears. It was a horror show in here. They looked worse than when Mickey got his ass beat in the Gallagher kitchen, or the day or so after Mandy got raped by her father. None of those past experiences of abuse any of us witnessed the aftermath of compared to this.

“Shit,” Fiona hissed before walking over to Mickey and kneeling down by his side.

“It’s worse than we thought, Fi,” Vee spoke up, getting up from off the floor. She reached into her pocket and grabbed her cell phone. “I’m calling the hospital. Mickey needs an ambulance, and Mandy’s having a hard time standing up.”

I turned my head towards Mandy at the mention of her name. She was rubbing at her knee and wincing at the soreness of it. I made my way over to her, and she looked at me with tear-stained cheeks and moisture in her eyes. She looked so fragile. She was a glass vase ready to shatter into pieces. Mickey, too. Why would anyone tamper with precious art like them?

“Mandy,” I whispered to her for a minute, but her eyes then focused on something behind me. I followed her gaze and watched as Kev and Fiona helped Mickey to seating position. That’s when the latter proceeded to reach for Mickey’s arm, and Mickey began to flinch in response.

“Mickey?” Fiona spoke as gently as she could. Mickey looked back at her with more tears ready to fall down his face. “Honey, I just want to take a look,” Fiona spoke, but when Fiona tried to touch him again, Mickey flinched again, his eyes sealing shut and his head repetitively shaking back and forth. A couple of tears made their way through his eyelids, and a sob began to escape his lips.

Did Terry really do what I think he did? Would he really be willing to do something like _that_ to Mickey?

“His arm,” Mandy began with a choked sob of her own, and Fiona and I turned our heads towards her. “His arm is broken, Fiona.”

He actually did it. He actually fucking did it.

The world stopped before my eyes. I couldn’t even feel my own pulse. I couldn’t feel anything. Was I dreaming? Was this the insomniac in me taking over my body? Is it possible for me to pinch myself so this nightmare would be over? Was this some late April Fool’s joke someone was playing on us?

“We need an ambulance on 2119 North Wallace,” Vee spoke, pacing around a bit between the kitchen and the living room. “There are two teenagers here, and they’re both injured very badly. One of them has a broken arm. I think the bone pierced through the skin.”

I wanted to throw up at that graphic description of Mickey’s arm injury.

Fiona rubbed at Mickey’s leg as he continued to cry in front of her, covering his left arm with his right. Whatever prompted Terry to inflict this much physical and emotional trauma on Mickey added even more trouble than both Mickey and Mandy already had. “The ambulance is comin’, Mick,” Fiona whispered, mainly to herself as she continued to comfort him. “Hang tight, hon. It’s okay.”

Mickey’s eyes slowly opened his eyes after a while, but Fiona still rubbed his leg at the sight of his heartbroken face. Mickey’s completely shattered. Some pieces of the puzzle can’t even assemble back to what they once were. My boyfriend, one of the many innocent people in the world, is completely shattered, broken, tainted.

He continued to cry until his eyes found mine. His chin trembled, and his lips pressed against each other momentarily. He needed me. He wanted me to come over there to him, but he didn’t want to move his arm, either.

Fiona eventually caught on to what Mickey was looking at and turned her head towards me. She sighed silently. I knew what she was thinking: yeah, she was still a little disappointed in me for ditching class, but at the same time, she knew I was right about coming over here. Everyone in the Gallagher house knows about us by now, and they know we’d do anything for each other. Fiona knew, especially.

I exchanged a look with Mandy, who nodded her head and allow me to go over to her brother. I stood up off the floor and slowly walked over to Mickey, suddenly nervous about the damage on his arm. Vee said that the bone may have pierced through his skin, and now I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to look at it or not.

Mickey’s eyes followed my movements, and when I sat down on his right side, he seemed to ease up, but only so much. He was still in pain, and his body continued to tremble in fear. “Mickey?” I signed to him carefully, and I saw the little shiver in Mickey’s shoulders. I placed a hand on his face, and Mickey leaned into a bit, tears still falling down his face.

I turned towards Fiona for a moment. She looked so worried. I didn’t blame her. “Do you…” Fiona began, hugging herself for a moment, “do you think you can…?”

I don’t know if I can, honestly. I don’t want to hurt Mickey any further than he already was. The ambulance was coming here to pick him up anyway, and they had to know how severe the injury was so they could fix it. So Mickey was going to have to show someone the injury at some point.

“Mickey,” I signed to him again, and his eyes trained up at me. “Fiona just wants to help you, okay? She doesn’t want to hurt you or anything –“ Mickey’s breaths started to pick up, and I saw him slightly shake his head. It’s like he wanted to protect us from him, like his broken arm was a virus that would come at us and kill us.

“I’m right here, Mick,” I signed again, keeping my eyes locked with his. “I won’t let you get hurt, okay? We don’t want to touch it. We just want to see how bad it is.” Mickey didn’t know whether to relax or to keep his walls built up. Maybe it was a mixture of both. “Can you trust me?”

He looked down at my hand reaching for his. I didn’t move it from there; I wanted him to make the choice. He stared down at it timidly before slowly looking up at me. He knows I’m there for him. He’s known for a while now. If he could trust me before, then I know he could trust me on this.

Finally, Mickey gulped and slowly moved his right hand off his left arm so he could reach for my arm. He began to sob again once he got a firm grip. The moment he grabbed my hand was when I looked down at his injured arm, and Kev, Fiona, and Vee began to gasp. The broken bone was definitely visible, and blood was all over his skin.

Not one word could describe what I was seeing or how I was feeling about this.

“Jesus Christ,” Kev spoke.

“I have to put some pressure onto the wound to stop the bleeding, Ian,” Vee responded once she hung up her phone. “Doctor’s orders.” I didn’t even get a chance to respond quickly enough before she made her way into the kitchen for one of the kitchen cloths. Mickey didn’t want anyone touching the damaged area, but if it’s something that the doctor wanted us to do, then we couldn’t really argue with that.

I gulped at the sight of the damage. A part of me wanted to get up and puke somewhere – in the sink, in the kitchen trash bin, in the backyard – but Mickey needed me to be here until the ambulance came to pick them up. Still, I couldn’t stand the sight of the blood seeping out of the pierced skin and the damn bone poking out of it. Carl has been through serious injuries before, but they weren’t as gruesome as this.

When Vee returned with a cloth in her hand, I turned towards Mickey, releasing my hand from his so I could sign to him. “Mickey,” I started, “she’s going to put some pressure on your arm for a little bit. She’s not going to hurt you, I promise –“

That didn’t help at all. Mickey shook his head at me, looking between Vee, the cloth in her hand, and my face. “Mick,” I tried again, grabbing onto his right hand again. “Look at me, Mick. My eyes are right here. Just hold onto me.” He followed my directions and seemed to be okay for a minute, but by the time Vee put the cloth on his arm, he began to cry at the pressure.

“It’s alright, sweetie,” Vee spoke, keeping a gentle hand on his elbow. “I’m not gonna hurt you, okay?” She glanced over to Kev and said, “go get me a bag of ice cubes so I can put it over this cloth.” With that, Kev was up and in the kitchen in a flash.

My eyes went from Mickey’s arm to his face. He was still crying, despite his grip onto my hand. That’s when I took my free hand and cradled the back of his head as gently as I could. He winced a little bit, and I assumed that there was a sore spot on his head somewhere. I scooted a little closer, cautious of any other injuries on his body, and placed a lingering kiss to his temple. It didn’t stop the crying, but it was comfort I was able to provide him, regardless.

Kev was back on the living room floor with the ice bag, as Vee requested, and slowly placed it on Mickey’s arm above the cloth that was resting there. Minutes later, ambulance sirens were heard outside the house. Fiona had gone out the front door and called for the men coming onto the sidewalk. Eventually, about three or four EMTs followed her inside, two of them carrying a cot.

“That’s Mickey,” Fiona told one of them, gesturing towards Mickey and then Mandy from a distance, “and that’s Mandy over there.”

The black-haired EMT nodded, observing the two broken Milkoviches, and spoke, “I’m going to need everyone to step back. We’re going to try and get them situated into our truck.”

Fiona, Kev, and Vee did what they were told. Two of the EMTs brought the cot over to Mandy and helped her on as carefully as they could. I started to get up, but I felt Mickey tighten his hold on my hand. He was so scared. He must not like hospitals or being left with people he didn’t know. Or maybe both. So I turned to one of the EMTs and asked hesitantly, “is there any way I can go in the truck with him? He’s scared. He needs me.”

The brunette woman shook her head. “Sorry, sir. There won’t be enough room in the truck.” That didn’t help either one of us.

Another cot came through the front door, and the other two EMTs made their way over to Mickey. As resistant I was to follow the EMT’s orders, I trailed my eyes down to Mickey’s before releasing his arm from mine. Mickey began to panic again, but that’s when I signed, “we’re gonna follow you there, Mick. Don’t worry. I’m gonna be over there, okay?”

More tears fell from Mickey’s eyes as he observed my hand movements. All of a sudden, when the EMTs started to grab at his legs and back, he cried in pain, quickly bringing his right arm over his left once again. “Hey, Mickey?” a blonde EMT spoke to him as he was lowered onto the second cot.

“He can’t hear you. He’s deaf,” Fiona responded, still feeling a little shaky.

The EMT nodded understandably before observing Mickey’s right over his left. Another EMT grabbed a white blanket and covered Mickey’s body with it before strapping Mickey to the cot. “Be careful of his arm, Gregory,” the blonde EMT warned him, and the Gregory guy nodded in response. “Alright, people. Let’s move.”

Both Mickey and Mandy, covered in blankets and strapped against the cots, were rolled out of the Gallagher house. The EMTs had carried them down the stairs and proceeded to wheel them over to the two ambulances parked in the middle of the street. Kev, Vee, Fiona, and I all stepped out of the house with our jackets on and watched as the crew loaded the trucks. People came out of their own houses and peeked through windows to observe the situation from afar.

I’ll bet none of them noticed Terry when he first came to the house, and that idea alone pissed me off.

Although I was too far away to really see his face, I saw Mickey turn his head towards me before he was placed into the first truck. My shoulders suddenly tensed, and a lump formed in my throat. I don’t even know if Mickey would really be okay after this or not. All I wanted right now was to keep him in my arms once the surgery is done.

* * *

Kev, Fiona, and I have been in the waiting room for a couple of hours. Vee elected to stay home, babysit Liam, clean up some of the blood on the floor, and wait for Debbie, Carl, and Lip to come home. I tried blocking out the sounds of doctors and machines around me, but it was increasingly difficult. How did doctors and nurses expect me to be patient and not rip my own brain out of my head?

My leg had been bouncing up and down for the past few minutes since we’ve been here. I didn’t like it here. I didn’t like having to wait and hold my best friend and boyfriend in my arms and shushing them quiet, assuring them that the sun will come out tomorrow morning. I didn’t like fucking thinking about the next possible traumatic episode they would have to endure. I didn’t fucking like thinking about what Terry had in store next when he believed to be in the clear.

Fiona’s hand found my knee and kept it there. I appreciate Fiona’s comfort. I always do. There would never be a day where I didn’t want Fiona to hold me and calm me down.

This wasn’t one of those instances where I could just calm down instantly, though. All those times I told Mickey and Mandy that they would be okay – hell, how am I okay? How was I able to keep my guard up for them so long without withering down to bits?

“Mickey and Mandy Milkovich?” a female nurse called throughout the waiting area space, and the three of us began to stand at the mention of their names. The blonde nurse strolled over to us with a clip board, preparing herself to tell us what happened behind the scenes. “We’ve finished the surgery on Mickey’s arm, and now the two of them are both resting in their rooms right now.”

“What happened to them?” Fiona began to ask.

The nurse looked down at her clipboard. “With Mandy, we noticed many scratches and bruised spots on her skin, and the area in her leg she told us was hurting was the patella, or her kneecap, along with a bit of her leg muscles. We gave her a wrap for her leg, but there were no broken bones or anything too serious.”

She glanced back down at her clipboard at the information she had on her paper. “In Mickey’s case, he has several bruised areas, along with a sore spot on his head, and a few scratches on his arms. Since the bone in his left arm has penetrated his skin, he’s going to have a longer healing process.”

“How much longer?” Kev asked suddenly.

“Usually a regular fracture takes about four to six weeks to heal, but this kind of injury may take longer than that to heal,” the nurse replied. “A rough estimate would be…possibly three months, but it also depends on the patient.”

Three months. Three fucking months. For three fucking months, Mickey won’t be able to sign. He won’t be able to communicate the way he wants to for three fucking months.

“Can we go in and see them?” Fiona asked, hugging herself again.

“Are you Mickey and Mandy’s immediate family?” the nurse began to ask.

“No, but we’ve taken them in for months,” Fiona explained. “We’re practically all they have.”

“No other parental figures besides the father?”

“Their mother has been dead for years, and their father is a bat shit crazy man on the run from the police because he doesn’t care about his own kids,” Fiona responded with anger. “There was barely a parental figure in their lives left before they moved into our neighborhood.”

I, of course, sided with Fiona’s anger. Who were the hospital personnel to say that we weren’t Mickey and Mandy’s family – and if not say it, believe it? We’re more of a family to them than Terry ever was. I’m surprised they’re biologically his anyway. “We are their family,” I immediately spoke up, earning glances in my direction. “Please, ma’am. They’re hurt and alone, and they only have us to care for them. They need us.”

The nurse gave me a sympathetic glance for a moment before she finally replied, “they’re both placed in cots beside each other in the recovery room. I can take you all there.”

Fiona sighed with relief, and Kev responded with a thank you before we all followed her down some halls. I looked around at my surroundings. There were patients in wheelchairs, some of them with casts on their limbs and others who were much older than Mickey and Mandy combined. There was a rush of doctors heading to the emergency room with a bloody man on a cot, which made adrenaline rush throughout my body.

The four of us made it into the recovery room after what felt like decades. Mickey and Mandy’s cots were hidden behind some yellow curtains hanging from the ceiling. When the nurse pushed them back, all I could see were tear-stained, hopeless faces.

And not one bandage or cast would help them recover from the roller coaster ride of hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the 26th of this month, this story will be a year old, and it's still not finished, smh (also, my AO3 account will be a year old on the 21st, too; yay me).
> 
> I hope you all liked this chapter. Kudos and comments are appreciated, and if you have any questions about this story or any of my other stories, want to start a conversation with me, or want to send prompts, come stop on by to my [ask box](http://promqueen-and-hairgel.tumblr.com/ask) and send whatever you like. I hope everyone had a wonderful weekend, and I hope you will have a wonderful week as well. <3


	45. Fate Has Laid a Hand (On My Shattered Heart)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What if I want to be a man my way? What if I don’t want to be the man Dad wants me to be? What if I want to be as strong as I want to be, without pushing so many limits? What if I want to break away the shield that’s holding me back from being the man I want to be: the man that wants to be in love with a stupidly ginger teen in the South Side of Chicago?"

Everything happened so fucking fast; I almost didn’t recognize where I was when I woke up until I noticed the curtains that separated my cot from the activity happening on the other side. I must have been on some heavy drugs or some shit when the doctors took me into their care. It feels as though I’ve slept for a fucking year or so.

You would think that I made it to heaven somehow because of how much white was in the room, but I didn’t. Heaven didn’t have vulnerabilities, I’m sure. Heaven didn’t leave you standing in a circle created by all your predators and shit. I’m also positive that Dad and I wouldn’t be in the same place if we were to die right now, and if we were, that was a hot load of bullshit.

My eyes fell down to my left arm. It was placed in a white cast and resting in a sling that was secure over my right shoulder. The seconds leading to my arm breaking came rushing back. I figured that, if I ran quick enough, I could make it out the door and find the neighbors and tell them to call Fiona.

Of course, that wasn’t possible, especially given the situation I was in. One, Dad had his fucking bodyguard standing behind us to prevent us from running; and two, well, Dad was closing in on us. He was stronger and faster in that moment than I ever imagined him. He probably would have dragged me off the steps of the Ball-Fisher house before I knocked on the door.

Mandy had to have been on the other side of that curtain somewhere, whether to my left or to my right. I wasn’t sure. Still, I’m worried for her as much as I am about myself. If I had it my way, she wouldn’t have gotten involved. I would have kept her in the boys’ room where Liam was at the time, and then I would have texted either Ian or Fiona about Dad getting into the house.

Fuck the fate of the rest of my childhood, honestly, because if I weren’t as deaf as I was now, I probably would have prevented Mandy from opening the front door.

The curtains suddenly moved, and a nurse was revealed on the other side of it. Behind her was Kevin, Fiona, and Ian, all in different degrees of exhaustion and worry. Sometimes I wonder why Fiona and Ian even put up with me and my sister. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if Mandy and I just found safety on our own without the help of the Gallaghers. It’s wrong to say, I know; the Gallaghers have been so helpful to us and are willing to protect us as long as we’re under their roof.

But don’t they have their own shit? Don’t they have an intoxicated father to deal with already? It’s bad enough that he can’t get himself a legit job that pays money for the house, either. Fiona has to work hours upon hours to put something on the table, and Lip and Ian have been scraping up whatever they could. And ever since Mandy and I came to the Gallagher house, they had to come up with ways to pay for Mandy’s abortion and a broken window.

Now they’ll have to add hospital bills to the list.

When I turned my head to my right, Mandy appeared behind the curtains. She looked tired but still managed to smile upon Fiona’s greeting. I don’t get her half of the time. Like, she almost got a broken leg; how is she still smiling?

Mandy turned towards me and pointed at the nurse ahead of us before signing. The nurse was addressing me. “Hey, sleepy head. How are you feeling?” What kind of fucking question was that anyway? I physically and emotionally feel like shit, lady. There ain’t no sugarcoating to it.

I didn’t sign that, though, because I doubt she would even understand me. That, and Mandy was probably gonna curse me out about being rude to professionals.

Ian hasn’t moved since he saw me. He was probably looking at my arm, for all the fuck I know. That’s what people with broken or amputated limbs go through, right? Having people give you _the look_ or some shit and then provide some comment about how bad they feel for you or something?

The deaf kid version is harsher than that. You begin to sign something, and the person you’re talking to has no fucking idea what you’re trying to say. Then the point clicks in their fucking head about your condition, and then they either do some stupid ass gesture that’s nowhere near close to the correct sign, or they’ll mouth their words unnecessarily slow, like they’re in one of those slow motion shots in the movies.

Frank’s did that before. Had he been a random person on the street, and I would have beaten him for it until my knuckles bled.

But I was in the Gallagher house at the time, and apparently it has rules. Plus, I actually give a shit about the Gallaghers’ emotional well-being as they do about mine, and I don’t think Fiona or Ian or even Debbie would be too happy to see a bloody corpse on their kitchen floor.

Ian stepped a little closer to my bed, and I gulped at his expression. He looked just as worried as I was when the EMTs were putting me on the ambulance. Ian wasn’t anything like those street people. He actually has compassion and empathy for a deaf person who gets beaten up by his homophobic father one time or another.

I don’t understand good people wanting to come to me when I’m at my lowest. I’m a Milkovich, and Milkoviches are like fucking cult members in the South Side. To the outsiders, we’re practically hunting for blood for those who either get on our bad side or just get in the way. I’m surprised anyone wants to even deal with me; I figured that everyone just runs from anyone with the last name _Milkovich_.

Ian doesn’t run. He doesn’t jog. He doesn’t walk. He doesn’t even tip toe away. He just stays. He’ll wait at a stop sign just for me to run over to him. He’ll have his fucking arms out from the east side of Chicago to the west, waiting for me to stop in front of him, toe to toe, just to expose myself to his embrace.

And you know what? I welcome that shit all the time now. Hell, I really need it now.

He made another step towards me, and I started to shift a little. All of a sudden, I felt the very sharp pain from where my arm had broken. Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to move it.

Everyone around me stopped when they heard my groan in pain. Fiona looked at me and told me not to move it.

I hated this shit. Fuck everything about this broken ass arm. Fuck Dad for breaking it in the first place. Fuck him for bringing his side buddy just to trap me and my baby sister in the fucking house like we’re prey and shit in the goddamn jungle. I hate fucking hurting all the time. I fucking hate having to deal with a bruise or a cut whenever Dad and I fight. I don’t want to keep fighting with Dad anymore. He expects me to be a man and call the shots, but he always finds a way to knock me down in the process.

What if I want to be a man my way? What if I don’t want to be the man Dad wants me to be? What if I want to be as strong as I want to be, without pushing so many limits? What if I want to break away the shield that’s holding me back from being the man I want to be: the man that wants to be in love with a stupidly ginger teen in the South Side of Chicago?

That’s honestly what I want to be.

But Dad doesn’t want me to be me. Dad wants me to be a smaller version of himself. Dad wants me to be a fucking tough, straight guy who pussy whips the gays out of their houses. Dad doesn’t want me to be happy or in love with anyone I want, unless it’s a fucking girl. Dad doesn’t want me to be in love with Ian or even ten inches near him.

Dad doesn’t accept me for who I am.

I didn’t realize I was about to cry until I saw Ian move again, his eyes trained on my face. I immediately turned away from him and everyone else surrounding me to focus on one of the colored tiles on the floor. They couldn’t see me like this. They couldn’t see how much of a wimp I was for crying about my dad and his expectations of me.

_Why the fuck do I have to be like this?_

A hand grabbed my chin and turned my head back around. Ian was now sitting on the cot and keeping his eyes on me. Maybe Ian really was looking at my face this whole time. Maybe he wasn’t pitying me after all.

Maybe he really can see me. Maybe he really can see me for who I am.

My chin trembled a little bit, and when I looked up at Ian, he was gulping back a lump that was growing in his throat. Why does shit like this always end up dragging Ian down along with us? I haven’t seen Ian cry too much since I’ve been in the Gallagher house, with the exception of yesterday when we were talking about his lost opportunities in the army. Still, I hated seeing Ian sad or remotely close to crying like I was right now.

All the emotions were overpowering me, and before I knew it, I had leaned forward into Ian’s plaid, unbuttoned shirt and sobbed freely. At this point, I could give a fuck less about who was paying attention. I needed a minute to let this out.

* * *

I held Mickey as close to me as I could. The vibrations of his sobs were flowing through both of our bodies, and my shirt got a little wet from Mickey’s tears. My right hand was firm against his back, rubbing away the ten pounds of tension and sadness Mickey seemed to have on him right now.

Mickey’s in more pain than I’ve ever witnessed. I say that because I, of course, wasn’t there the day he lost his ability to hear; that, and Terry breaking his arm, had to be the worst moments of Mickey’s life. In eighteen years' time, Mickey has been tampered around with and then thrown down on the concrete like glass. Glass broke pretty easily, too, I’ll admit.

With Mickey, however, he broke apart in more ways than just physical. The two major encounters between him and his dad ended up with Mickey facing a severe injury, and as a consequence, Mickey felt himself crumble further into bits.

Glass is an inanimate object, too, and therefore, it can’t build itself back together. Even after the accident, Mickey’s grown from it. He slowly gathered the will to start learning American sign language, with Mandy and their mother’s help. He realized what damage could do to a person, and he was willing to keep his sister safe from any of that severe trauma and circumstance. He knew what kind of environment he and his sister were living in, and in order to survive, they had to protect themselves the best way they can.

But knowing Terry, he always had some way to make their lives worse. It could be something a simple as a cigarette burn – the one that triggered the fire crackers and exploded Mickey’s ear drums, for example – and Mickey and Mandy somehow ended up in complete danger. As a result, the two siblings have to carry fuck tons of bricks just to build their structure back up again.

In Mickey’s case, with his broken arm, it seems like he doesn’t want to rebuild anything anymore. He looks so… _done_.

“You’re really good with him,” the nurse behind me commented as Mickey’s sobs got a little softer after several minutes. I turned my head towards the nurse, maintaining my hold on Mickey, and she asked, “are you two together?”

I nodded. “Yeah,” I croaked, “um, he’s my boyfriend.”

For the next few minutes, I stayed on the cot with Mickey in the same position we’ve been sitting in. Mickey’s face had to have soaked by now, but he didn’t want to move away from me to wipe his face off. I didn’t mind, though, because I knew how much he needed this. Whatever happened back there at the Gallagher house will get explained with time, but right now, Mickey needed all the comfort he could possibly get.

Eventually, it was time for Mickey and Mandy to get discharged from the hospital. The nurse had given Fiona some prescription medicine for Mickey’s arm, along with some instructions on how to care for the injury.

I covered the curtains around Mickey’s cot so I could help him into his clothes. Fiona managed to gather some cleaner clothes to replace the bloody jeans and sleeveless top Mickey had on previously. I think that was a better option than to have Mickey going home with reminders of Terry stained on him.

As soon as Mickey was dressed, I checked up on Mandy. She had her clean top on, but her leg was still a little sore, and she probably needed some assistance with her jeans. “You need some help?” I began to ask her.

Mandy shook her head and continued to reach down and slip her leg into the pants. She had been very silent since she woke up. She hasn’t said a word to either me or Fiona. Not even the nurse got a word out of her.

“You can talk to me, you know,” I added, hoping that I would get a response from that.

Nope. Not one.

I got up off Mickey’s cot and went to sit beside her. She glanced down at her clothed legs. Her face looked a little neutral, with probably a couple of furious undertones. She was probably replaying the memories of today in her head, like rewinding a movie to that one favorite moment.

Only Mandy’s memories are nowhere equal to favorite moments. They were the complete opposite.

“Mandy?” I tried again, a little softly this time. I could hear her breathing a bit, from where I sat. It wasn’t too heavy or anything, but it sounded like she was fuming.

I trained my eyes over to Mickey, who was facing the both of us with tear-stained cheeks. His eyes were a little red, too, which was disappointing because I love how Mickey’s blue eyes glimmered in the light. Now that more icing was being added to the top of the cake, he was left dealing with the mess on the floor.

Suddenly, Mandy’s voice rang through my ears. “Do you wanna know how hard it is for us to talk to anyone?” The question took me off guard, for a moment. What was she even talking about? “Just…you know, have a sit-down conversation without any yelling or any fists?”

Compared to the Milkoviches, I couldn’t relate. I mean, I fight with Lip sometimes, but we always end up finding ways to sort things out and go back to chilling in arm chairs with cigarettes in between our fingers.

“Dad doesn’t listen to us, unless it’s something we know he wants to hear,” Mandy continued, “like bringing more money into the house or one of his boys trying to man up somehow.” She shrugged. “He doesn’t care about the other little achievements we make. I don’t even think he paid attention to the A+ homework assignment Mama put on the fridge when I was eight.”

Kind of ironic, if you ask me. Every parent’s supposed to feel excited when their kid gets a good grade, right?

Then again, this is Terry Milkovich we’re talking about.

“And you know how teenagers are supposed to achieve milestones and shit growing up? Parents are usually supportive about that shit, aren’t they?”

 _Not all of them, no_.

“Sometimes I wonder what would happen if Mama stayed alive and watched his baby boy get a boyfriend, you know?” Mandy asked, referencing Mickey. “She’s very optimistic about a lot of things, and she never once expressed her disapproval of gay guys.” She paused and chuckled. “But what would I know? I was four when she died.”

I glanced from Mandy over to Mickey, realizing what was going on here. I knew Terry was all things terrible, but I didn’t know his homophobia led to Mickey’s injury.

“Sometimes I wonder what would happen if homophobia didn’t exist,” Mandy ranted on. “Maybe people like you and Mickey would be in a safer environment. Maybe they’d be able to stay under their parents’ roof and get a photo in for the annual Christmas cards. Maybe they wouldn’t get kicked around on the streets and on school playgrounds or anything like that.”

I didn’t get bullied too often for my sexuality, but I did hate what happened to those who did. I think someone in another high school in Illinois committed suicide because of the derogatory comments on his Twitter or some shit like that. He deserved to live as much as I did. So did Mickey, and pretty much every other gay person in the world. But every day, they get treated like aliens just for being themselves.

That’s how Mickey was treated by his father, and that’s what landed us here.

“We can’t have that.” Mandy spoke after a couple seconds of silence. “We can’t have that kind of world. Fate likes to fuck with us. Fate likes to see us suffer in the hands of someone else, doesn’t it?” She shook her head. “Fate’s doing a really good fucking job keeping Dad away from the cops, you know?” She chuckled. “Shit, it’s a shock how he’s gotten away for so long.”

I wondered where that fucker was now so I could take a tire iron and shove it down his throat.

She nodded a bit, staring at something behind Mickey, completely out of it as she smiled a little sarcastically. “Fate can do it,” she concluded. “Fate can do it one more time, can it?” She giggled, making me a little nervous. “It always gets another chance to fuck with us, right?”

I shook my own head. Her words flowed through my system. It’s almost as if her words were becoming my own. _Fate can do it one more time, can it? It always gets another chance to fuck with us, right?_

My blood started to boil. Fuck fate. I wouldn’t let it do that to them anymore.

* * *

Ian and Mandy have been completely silent during the ride back to the Gallagher house, and I was getting quite concerned. I was too out of it to interpret their exchange, but something definitely has went around in their conversation that I wanted to know more about.

Kevin stopped his car near the curb, and when the ignition was off, Ian had opened the car door and helped Mandy out of her seat. It’s like he was trying to focus on something that wasn’t physically there. I don’t know. He just kept his head down the entire time, and I was starting to feel a little worried.

With my right hand, I opened the door on my side and slid off the seat, careful not to move my left arm in a funny way. It was still fucking hurting like a bitch. I probably needed some ice or some shit on it.

Fiona and Ian both helped Mandy up the stairs and inside the Gallagher house, and I just followed. Once everyone was in the building, Fiona shooed Carl and Lip off the couch so Mandy could rest her leg for a little while. I’m not sure how severe Mandy’s injury was, but she probably had to prevent herself from walking around too much, meaning that she had to sit down here for the night.

Debbie walked towards me, a look of concern spread on her face. For fuck’s sake, she’s only in, what, the seventh or eighth grade? And my problems have a tendency of dragging someone down with them, so I didn’t need Debbie to start asking questions, too.

Fiona seemed to understand that, for she walked over to her once Mandy was situated and directed her to the stairs.

Fiona had gone into the kitchen where Kevin and Veronica were, and I took the opportunity to look at my surroundings. The blood spots on the floor had been cleaned up a while ago, it seems. The living room looked like an actual part of the fucking home again, and not some crime scene from _CSI: Miami_. Everything about the Gallagher house felt the way it should, and it made me grateful that I’m actually standing in this space.

If there was a time in my childhood when our old house was anything close to the Gallagher house, I probably wouldn’t have believed it. Yeah, Mama’s stuff was everywhere, and Mandy and I had little fucking toys spread around like a normal family home; however, the essence of the place probably wasn’t anything like that of a normal home. With Dad’s presence, you would think that we were in a maximum security prison instead of a house.

Though a maximum security prison sounds ten times better than standing an inch near Dad.

Ian left Mandy’s side for a moment to walk over to me. His tone from earlier wasn’t there anymore, but I feel like there was something hidden underneath the surface that I wasn’t aware of. “You okay, Mick?” he signed to me.

I nodded, though I was only contradicting myself.

Before he continued, I walked past him and into the kitchen. My arm was still fucking hurting, and I needed some ice on it STAT.

For some reason, I found myself stopping underneath the archway that separated the kitchen from the living room. It was probably the fact that the adults were in there – or maybe it was just Fiona. She’s not an actual mother or anything, but she plays the part perfectly. I couldn’t tell the difference between Fiona the Mother and Fiona the Sister when I first met her, which I thought was fucking hilarious. She had Liam on her hip and everything, for Christ’s sake.

Her head turned towards me, and she began to stand up and walk towards me, a troubled expression on her face. It’s like Mama never left, and her spirit somehow fused within Fiona’s.

I looked at her lips as she said, “Mickey? Are you feeling alright? Do you need something?”

The fuck should I know, honestly? I needed a lot of things right now – some fucking ice, water, a nap, the mattress and pillow in the boys’ room where Ian slept. I needed a fucking stress reliever, or maybe just a nap. I needed space from all of life’s troubles, from my own fucking troubles.

Shit, what the fuck am I thinking? My troubles follow me everywhere I go, like that one annoying ass stray dog that wants a piece of your ham sandwich. And even when I think that they’re gone, their remains are left in the burning hole in my chest, leaving ashes behind.

Something on my face left Fiona asking more questions. She got a little better with the signing thing, but she still needed some work. “Mickey? Are you okay?”

No, I wasn’t okay. One of my parents is dead, and the other one is a homophobic psycho. How could I ever be okay again?

Shit. I’ll never be okay again. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Never.

I’m not okay. I’m a fucking mess.

 _I’m…I’m not fucking okay_.

Immediately, I felt myself take a step forward and wrap my free arm around Fiona for a hug. She’s pretty much the only mother figure I have left, even if she’s Ian’s older sister. Anything was better than nothing, right?

And Fiona hugged me back, rubbing my back softly and being cautious of my cast. She knew what I was dealing with and wanted to fix everything. She wanted to fix everything because she knew that storms go away after a little while, and the sun would be out the next day. The sun always came back, and the flowers always grew back once the storm was over.

But that didn’t mean storms weren’t always gone for good. They managed to come back every time, some worse than others.

My storm came and went, but I’ll never be okay, because I know it’s coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hard to believe I published this story exactly year ago. Holy shit, man.
> 
> I would have updated this or the other WIP a few days ago on my account's 1-year anniversary (April 21st), but I had gotten the news that Prince had passed away, and I was so sad and pissed that all of the good people are leaving us (but happy that they're in a better place). That, and I also had two projects to work on for school, so I needed to concentrate on those.
> 
> (And I may or may not be working on a future multichapter fic, but you know...).
> 
> But yeah, this is the 1-year anniversary on LTMH, and I thought I would share this anniversary update with you guys. I hope you guys liked this chapter. Let me know what you think, and hit me up in my [Tumblr ask box](http://promqueen-and-hairgel.tumblr.com/ask) if you have any other questions or just want to hang out. I still take prompts, but I've been so busy (the semester is almost over, yessss), but I'll eventually get back to those. Again, love you all, have a good day/night, and happy reading. <3


	46. Do What You Can to Get By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The longer I looked down at him, the bigger the lump in my throat had gotten. He was always crying or getting upset at something that happens to him, and he definitely didn’t deserve it. If there were some way I could rid his sadness completely, I would totally be up for the challenge. There had to be a way. There had to be a way to drift Mickey from this physical and emotional torture he was feeling. But what is it that I could possibly do?"

There wasn’t an opportunity for me to cool down the night we came home from the hospital. I wasn’t punching walls or burning an entire tree down just yet, but I was still fuming. Of all the things I could have witnessed in my teenage years, watching the aftermath of my boyfriend’s encounter with his homophobic father was the least expected.

But this is the South Side of Chicago, so anything was bound to happen at this point.

I couldn’t focus on anything else. I couldn’t focus on the taste of the food in my mouth during dinner. I couldn’t focus on Fiona trying to drift Carl and Debbie away from the general topic of the hospital visit. I couldn’t focus on the stories Debbie and Lip told about what happened at school. I couldn’t even focus on Fiona grabbing my attention after dinner when she wanted to check in with me on how I was feeling after Mickey’s emergency surgery.

How could you possibly function properly with all of these things occurring within your peripheral vision? How could you stand to walk again when your world has been falling to its feet?

That night, I just couldn’t find it in me to care about much else. I was too mad – mad might not even be the right word, though it’s the only one my brain can process at this point.

Mickey needed help in the shower since he wasn’t allowed to get his cast wet, and he’d probably have a hell of a hard time washing himself with one hand. So I grabbed a plastic bag from the kitchen and brought it up with me to the upstairs bathroom. I helped him out of his clothes before he got the chance to. As emotionally and physically broken as he was, I didn’t want him moving too much, or else he would trigger more pain in his arm.

Once Mickey was completely undressed, I followed suit and then turned on the water so it would be warm enough for the both of us. The water felt just right for showering in, so I stepped inside first before helping Mickey in. I heard him wince a little bit in pain, and that’s when I glanced down for a second at the small, dark spots on his upper legs. I knew they would go away eventually, but the more I looked at them, the more furious I got.

Thankfully, I didn’t focus on those for too long and returned to taking the plastic bag and covering Mickey’s broken arm with it, careful as to not move the limb too fast or too hard. Mickey seemed to trust me with everything I was doing, which was a good sign.

I took the pine-flavored body wash and spread some in my hand before rubbing both of my hands together. My hands were then placed on Mickey’s shoulders and chest, spreading the body wash all over him and making sure I got every inch of his skin I could get to.

Mickey’s been pretty distant, from the look in his eyes when I tried to capture his gaze. He looked exhausted from all the screaming, crying, and suffering that lead him here. It hurt too much just to look at him. He’s my boyfriend, who unfortunately came from the most unstable, dysfunctional environment possible. Just when I thought that we were making progress with protecting him and Mandy from their father, all of this shit happens.

Hopefully, the commotion from earlier has completely died, though I’m not counting on it to not happen again sometime in the future.

My hands roamed around Mickey’s chest, arms, shoulders, back, and legs. I was knelt down in front of him, scrubbing his legs when I glanced up at him for permission to clean the rest of him off. I signed it just in case he missed the message, but then he shook his head, signing with one hand along the lines of, “I got it.”

That’s when I proceeded to wash myself. I figured that, since I was already in here and that we pretty much know each other’s bodies by now, it shouldn’t hurt.

We both finished within about fifteen minutes, and I stepped out before helping Mickey. I grabbed the spare towel from the rack and wrapped it around Mickey before grabbing my own and drying off my body. Mickey started rubbing the areas his right hand could get to – his chest, shoulders, butt, pelvis – and that’s when I stepped back in to help with the rest.

Once we were both dry, I put on my pajamas and then helped Mickey into his, removing the plastic bag that was over his arm and discarding it off to the side. We left the bathroom together, me leading the two of us into my room, where Carl and Liam were already fast asleep. Lip must have been downstairs, occupied with some last-minute studying or something, which pretty much explained his absence.

I moved the covers back some so Mickey could climb in first. I was hesitant in joining him, being that my bed was pretty small and that the movement could hurt his arm so more. A part of me wanted to just sleep on the floor until his arm completely healed, which would take a long time considering that the doctor mentioned something about the healing process taking three months.

Mickey didn’t want that. Mickey wanted to be as close to me as possible, judging from his pull on me with his free hand. I was on top of him at this point, and Mickey had sat up in the bed to reach up and kiss me on the lips. It was a very desperate kiss, one that Mickey couldn’t seem to live without.

I let him continue, though, because whatever he needed to keep him ground from this overwhelming roller coaster of a day, I wouldn’t argue with him on it.

The next few minutes was spent making out on the bed, a couple of sighs coming from Mickey’s lips as I deepened the kiss. Carl and Liam were asleep on the other side of the room, but Mickey didn’t care about who was watching this time. He needed me, and I needed him. It was a never-ending cycle of commitment and passion we both shared, and no one else added anything to the equation.

A few more seconds of heated kissing and desperate groans and sighs, and suddenly, Mickey yelped in pain. I flinched away at the sound and looked down to his injured arm immediately. I think I was laying too close to the injury or something. Or maybe Mickey was trying to move his arm on his own. Still, it was a scary thought to have, which prevented me from joining him in the bed in the first place.

When I turned behind me, Carl had rolled over a bit in bed, but he didn’t open his eyes or anything, which was a little of a relief. That was the least of my worries, though, as I turned back in Mickey’s direction, watching him stare at the injured arm, his chin trembling and his eyebrows knitting together in sadness.

“Mick?” I signed to him, a lump forming in my own throat.

His blue eyes trailed upwards to me when he saw me sign his name. There was moisture in his eyes, and his face looked somewhat pale, with a little bit of red appearing here or there, from what I could see with the hallway lights shining on his face. His mouth shut closed for a minute, not wanting to eject any noises from it.

The longer I looked down at him, the bigger the lump in my throat had gotten. He was always crying or getting upset at something that happens to him, and he definitely didn’t deserve it. If there were some way I could rid his sadness completely, I would totally be up for the challenge. There had to be a way. There had to be a way to drift Mickey from this physical and emotional torture he was feeling.

But what is it that I could possibly do?

Mickey’s eyes closed shut, and a small sound left his lips. He was crying again. He tried so hard to keep it in, but now the waterworks were overcoming him.

A tear fell from my own face as I watched him cry below me, and that’s when I carefully adjusted my position over Mickey’s body, laying more of my weight on his right side. I carefully wrapped my arm around the back of his neck, and Mickey shifted his head closer to me as more tears began to fall. His sobs got a little louder, too, and I held him a little tighter. He was a ticking time bomb, and I had to do whatever I could to keep him from breaking further than he already was.

More tears fell from my eyes as Mickey cried on my chest. I used my other hand to pull the covers over us, mainly wanting to warm Mickey up as much as I could. Up ahead, I could see Carl open his eyes, looking at the both of us with concern spread on his face. Mickey, Mandy, and I weren’t the only ones affected by this tragedy.

Finally, when Mickey and I were covered up, I took my free hand and used it to wrap around Mickey’s torso, my thumb rubbing softly against his waist. He didn’t stop crying until about twenty minutes later, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t feeling too good.

This wasn’t like some band-aid you could rip off, and it would eventually heal with time. This kind of pain lasted for years, even on days when you don’t feel anything. Mickey could be either playing with Liam outside one day, or he could be lounging on the couch with Carl and having some kind of video game match. That didn’t mean he was okay.

Sometimes when I’m alone or when I’m having a very terrible day, my mind flashes back to that day I left for the army with Lip’s identification. I needed to be away from Monica at the time, and God knows I didn’t have the money to take some big trip out of the city. Regardless, I just wanted to be in my own safe haven, somewhere I can go to get away from trouble for a little while.

Maybe that’s what Mickey and Mandy needed. Maybe Mickey and Mandy needed their own kind of safe haven. We Gallaghers still hold our standards high when it comes to protecting them in general – or, at least, we try to – but hiding them away in this house didn’t feel like it was enough. This isn’t the most intruder-proof place in the world, and we didn’t have enough money for security systems or anything. Even if we did, who knows how long the police will catch on to whatever drama awaited us next?

And then it hit me. I didn’t have too many details on what I wanted to do to make this plan work, but I had a plan nonetheless.

Finally feeling as satisfied as I can be, I snuggled closer to the tear-stained Milkovich in my arms, kissed him on the temple, and closed my eyes, falling into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

Fiona wanted to take us to Patsy’s Pies today. After the previous encounter with Terry and the aftermath of it all, she didn’t want us staying there anymore while she was at work and the others were at school, especially knowing that Terry is all too familiar with our game plan.

I didn’t mind, though. I don’t really spend time at Patsy’s Pies, and it seems like a more light-hearted atmosphere than anything a foot near our dad’s house.

Mickey, Liam, and I followed Fiona behind the counter. Some of the employees in the restaurant were looking at us, confused as to why we were here. I would be, too, if I were one of these depressing, dish-washing, food-serving morons watching Fiona enter the building with two teens in tow.

“Sean?” Fiona called to somebody in the back room somewhere. A man with brown hair came through a small little office space in a wrinkled, navy blue button-up and jeans, automatically turning to me and then Mickey.

How cute. He doesn’t know who we are. This is new.

“These are the Milkovich kids I told you about,” Fiona explained to the older man. “They’ve been in an incident last night, and I don’t want to leave them home until it’s safe back there. You think they’ll be okay in your office?”

Sean’s eyes fell upon us again, feeling a little skeptical about us for some reason. What was there to be skeptical about? We’re two little rag dolls that get kicked around for fun by our piece of shit father. How much more do you want Fiona to sell this for?

“Take any seat you like,” Sean finally stated, and I began to walk past them, with Liam’s hand in mine, until I got to the office space, with Mickey following me. It wasn’t the cleanest area of Patsy’s, from what I could tell anyway, but it felt a little safer than inside the Gallagher house when none of the Gallaghers were home.

Still, though, we woke up pretty early this morning, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t tired as shit and wanted to go back to bed.

I turned to my left and noticed Mickey staring down at a spot on the floor. Last night, I think I heard some crying coming from the boys’ room. Ian and Mickey didn’t notice when I peeked in the room for a quick minute, but when I saw them, I just felt so disappointed. Disappointed in that I allowed this kind of shit to happen. I was the one who opened the front door when no one sans Mickey, Liam, and I were at home that afternoon. And now, both Ian and Mickey were being punished for it.

I was, too, but that’s what I get for not keeping my guard up and welcoming danger in the house, I suppose.

Mickey turned his head towards me, and his face fell a bit. He started to sign with his free hand, “You okay, Mands?”

The question I’ll find myself asking for the rest of my life.

I shrugged. I don’t know if I will, really. How can you be okay when your deaf brother and his boyfriend are suffering, too? How can you be okay when it feels like you’re dragging them down the drain with you? How can you be okay knowing that a homophobic psycho is your father?

“Are you?” I signed to him, biting the inside of my cheek momentarily. He shrugged, too. We seemed to read each other’s minds. “How does your arm feel?”

“Fuckin’ terrible.”

“Need some more ice on it?”

Mickey shook his head. “I’m okay for now.”

Signing with one hand looked harder when your other arm was broken. Mickey practically had to spell out words with one hand, if not perform some of the one-hand signals we’re both familiar with. Mama and I taught him all that he knows, which definitely came in handy in situations like this.

Some footsteps interrupted our conversation, and when I turned around, Sean was standing in the doorway. “Are any of you hungry? I could sacrifice a plate of food for you, if you want?”

I turned to Mickey and signed his words. We were both a little skeptical on it since we had breakfast this morning. In retrospect, though, it was only a bowl of cereal since everyone was running late, and grocery shopping needed to be done at some point.

Mickey nodded, and I did the same. “Sure,” I replied.

“Awesome,” Sean replied, and he left out the room once again. He was nicer in person than Fiona described him. Maybe we could actually get along.

* * *

I told Lip this morning that I would be a little late to class today since I had to pick something up from the Kash and Grab really quick.

I lied. I was actually heading on the train today. As much as lying wasn’t the right thing to do, especially to someone like Lip, I didn’t want my plan to slip from my mind. Somehow, I had to make enough money to properly get Mickey and Mandy out of here so they would be safe from their dad. A couple of Google searches in the library later, and I found just what I was looking for.

I boarded the CTA train after leaving the library and headed to Boystown, an area of Chicago I never really been to before. Some people in the train car I was in gave me a couple of looks, but I ignored them in favor of checking my phone for anything from Mickey, Mandy, or Lip.

 _Nope, nothing_.

So instead, I scrambled through my backpack for a pair of earphones so I could listen to some music. Unfortunately, the pair that I found was broken in one ear. I guess I’ll have to save up some money for that, too, eventually.

But that wasn’t my main focus. My main focus was to get this job so I can get as much money as I could. It wasn’t the most ideal job for me, I’ll be honest; however, it earned more per hour at entry-level than it did with most other jobs.

Once I made it downtown, I hopped off the train with my backpack and phone, boarding buses and following street signs until I made it to my location. The building looked worn down from the outside, yet it still managed to have customers enter and exit from the front entrance.

The inside was a completely different story. Purple and blue lights were hitting every inch of the room, a crystal ball was hanging above the center of the room, and there were more people inside than I predicted – but not by that much, since it was a Tuesday – all of them being older men. Judging by the suits some of them had on, they must have been extremely rich, which seemed to work in my favor.

Assuming that I would get hired, anyway.

There was a bar up ahead. Behind it stood a hundred different bottles of drinks stocked on a very tall shelf. This should have been enough alcohol to leave even Frank brain dead.

“May I help you?” a short-haired man called over the lively music playing throughout the club. He had a few silver streaks in his hair and pulled them off pretty nicely.

“Can I speak with your manager?” I asked him, raising my voice so he could hear me.

The man didn’t waste time rounding the bar and leading me around the club. “Follow me.”

We eventually made it to a back door away from all of the noise, weaving through small hallways until he found a door labelled _Larry Fulcher, Manager_. Pretty fancy for a Boystown night club, I’ll admit.

When the black and silver-haired man opened the door, there was another guy sitting at his desk on the other side. This was probably the Larry that was referred to on the door sign. “Larry,” the first man spoke, and Larry’s eyes fell on him before they did on me. He didn’t seem too intimidating, though my heart was still beating about the possibility of getting rejected. “He wants to speak with you.”

Larry nodded. “Thanks, Daniel. I’ll take it from here.” With that, Daniel was out of the room and back to his shift, leaving me here with the manager himself. “Can I help you?” Larry asked, grabbing a cigarette from his ashtray and taking a drag.

I shook my head out of the little trance I was in before I went back into focus, placing my backpack down by my feet. “Um, I’m Ian,” I introduced myself, just to be safe, “and…uh, I was wondering if I could get a job here.”

Larry lifted a skeptical eyebrow at me and the backpack at my feet. “You still in school?”

“Yes.”

“You eighteen yet?”

“Yeah.”

Well, I was almost eighteen, if that helped anything. Really, though, I won’t be eighteen until next January. But I didn’t have time to wait around, though. Mickey and Mandy needed my help, and I needed to protect them as quick as possible. This guy had to know how desperate I was, if coming here first was anything to go by.

Larry placed his cigarette back in his tray before his eyes fell upon me again. “Anything interesting, in particular?”

I shrugged. “Dancing, mainly, but I don’t mind working behind the counter, either.”

Larry gave me a dismissive hand wave. “We have guys for that,” he replied, and I nodded in response.

He glanced over at my features, taking in every piece of me as he can. It felt weird at first, but maybe he was probably checking to see if I would look fit enough. I did a lot of exercising back when I did ROTC, and I would run in the morning. All of that should help for something.

With a sigh, Larry noted, “you do have the package for it.” That gave me more hope than I imagined. “And…” Larry chuckled. “Some of our customers are in dire need of some extra special treatment.” He grabbed a cherry lollipop that was sitting in a tiny plate and placed it in his mouth, eyeing me a little suggestively.

Whatever that meant.

“So…does that mean –“

“Welcome aboard, Ian…”

“Gallagher,” I told him with a smile on my face.

“Gallagher,” Larry sung out a little bit, matching my smile. “But your customers don’t have to know that, if you don’t want them to. Stage names are a thing around here, you know.” I nodded, keeping that in mind. “We would have to get you acquainted with everyone, but you can start as soon as you’d like.”

That was all I needed to hear, and it brought me one step closer to my goal. “Thanks,” I told him. He had given me his number on a card and took down my clothing sizes before I left the building that day.

On my way back on the CTA and to school, I checked my phone to see if I got anymore messages. Lip had sent a couple, wondering where I was, and Mickey was basically telling me how bored he was, sitting in Sean’s office space at Patsy’s where Fiona worked. I responded to both of them before I shut my phone off and placed it in my backpack.

I had missed a class and a half that day. Actually, I really missed two classes total; the second one had about less than ten minutes left, but I didn’t bother going. For the rest of that class, I was in the library, catching up on some assignments that I hadn’t completed just yet. Sure, I may have been struggling a little bit with homework and such, but sooner or later, I won’t have to worry about it anymore. I had one more year of high school left after this, and then I would be done coming to this school. All of my problems would eventually be out the window in no time.

As soon as I finished my assignments to the best of my abilities, the bell rang throughout the entire school, letting me know that third period was about to begin. So I packed all of my belongings and headed straight to class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand Ian's downward spiral begins.
> 
> But seriously, I was so concerned with this chapter because of Ian's parts, honestly. I don't want to half-ass anything about his part of the story, but bipolar disorder is so hard to touch on and to detect in people sometimes, you know (I have relatives with it, but I'm not too familiar with it myself)? And, like, with this story, I wanted to slowly get into it and not just...bam, and all of that. I'm not sure who's been following this or not, but Ian's education have been a few clues leading towards his downfall as well, even before this chapter.
> 
> I hope you all liked this chapter. I'm still writing prompts, if anyone wants to know (I uploaded one the other day, which I'm honestly excited to continue). Come chat with me at [my Tumblr](http://promqueen-and-hairgel.tumblr.com/ask), if you want to talk about any of my current WIPs, prompts, how your day was, etc. And, as always, happy reading. <3


	47. The Sky's the Limit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This town had some angels hiding out somewhere, but they couldn’t seem to get themselves out with all of the demons and catastrophes surrounding them. Mickey and Mandy could potentially get themselves out of their hell holes; it's all just a matter of resources, and that's what I planned on providing them."

My medication wasn’t wearing out or anything like that, but I’m still in fucking pain right now. I think it’s more emotional pain hidden within the layers than physical pain, though. Just seeing my bone sticking out of my fucking arm was a mentally-damaging image by itself, but how it came about was worse.

Ian didn’t come back home from school today. Near the middle of the week, he said something about finding a new job, but he never told me what it was. The last place he worked at, there had been some heavy tension between him and his boss. Now he didn’t work there anymore, which was a relief because that fucker was gonna get a handful of my fist in a minute.

And I trust that Ian was doing well in his new job – whatever it was anyway.

Meanwhile, the Gallaghers decided to have a little Friday night thing with the neighbors from next door. Debbie said something about playing Monopoly or some shit. Our family used to have that game in the house, and it was fun playing with Mandy, Iggy, and Colin for a while before Dad threw it out.

Now, I didn’t feel like playing anything. I don’t want to do anything, really. I just want to wait here in Ian’s bed until Ian got back so he could hold me close again. Fuck how cheesy that sounds. I mean it.

A shadow of a person’s form was in the light shining in the dark in the room. It was a little too small to be Ian’s. When I turned around to see who it was, I spotted Carl standing at the entrance. I couldn’t find it in me to ask him what the fuck he wanted, especially since I could only sign with one fucking hand. So I just watched him walk further in the room and sit down on the edge of the bed.

Carl grabbed the American Sign Language book that had been sitting on Ian’s desk and started flipping through it nonchalantly. Unlike most of the Gallaghers, Carl didn’t spend too much time learning the language. Same goes for Lip, too, but he has other priorities he had to deal with, like college and relationships and shit. That, and we don’t really talk to each other that often, unless Ian is with us.

Despite that, I didn’t have much of a problem with either one of them. The Gallaghers in general were cooler than anything about our family, and they took Mandy and me in when we were at our lowest. So something like getting them to learn ASL for me didn’t affect me too much, though I do like to talk to people who know it or are familiar with it.

I watched as Carl sign something with his fingers. He had his left thumb up on his side, and his right made a circle to the side of his left before it stopped on his right side, the index finger and the thumb touching each other. That was the sign for _everyone_.

Okay. So… _everyone_ , I guess.

He continued to sign the letters I and S, individually. He flipped a couple of pages until he got to the section with the words starting with the letter D. He still had to flip a couple more pages to find what he was looking for. This was gonna be a long fucking conversation.

I climbed out of Ian’s bed and walked over to the desk to sit there and retrieve our black notebook. We don’t use it as often as we used to when Ian was still adjusting to me and all. Recently, since my arm got fucked it, we had to bring it back. There wasn’t much in it like there was before, sure, but there was still a lot.

Carl watched as I ripped a blank sheet of paper out of the back of the notebook, scribbling a note at the top of the page. “You know, I still have my writing hand.” Carl smirked in response and still managed to sign, “sorry.”

This kid is a fucking trip, but I like him.

I handed him the paper and pen, and he started to write out his full sentence on the sheet. I scooted the chair closer to the bed so I could read what he had to say. “Everyone’s downstairs for Family Game Night, and Fiona wanted me to bring you down.”

The Gallaghers hadn’t done something like that in a couple of months, not with all of the drama happening under this roof. The last time I participated wasn’t that fun with the whole charades scandal. Fiona wrote one of my trigger words on a note card, and seeing it almost made me vomit. Ian was there to calm me down some, though, and the night ended with a movie and all that shit.

That was back when our relationship was secret, back when we would sneak kisses to each other when everyone’s backs were turned to us. Now we’re out and about in a relationship, free to kiss each other under the Gallagher roof for as much as we wanted to. We couldn’t do that in public places, not with Dad spying on us in one of his hiding spots or whatever, but this was enough.

Ian still hadn’t returned from work, though, so that would mean I have to participate in the game night thing with just Mandy and the other Gallaghers. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with the other Gallaghers or anything. Not even a week had passed since my surgery, and I’m still kinda upset about it. I just need my own personal space for a while.

So I shook my head at Carl, who was waiting for a response. “No thanks, man,” I wrote on the paper.

Lucky for me, Carl wasn’t the kind who asked a shit ton of questions about my feelings and shit. Instead, he hopped off the bed and turned the bedroom light on so he could search his side of the room for something I couldn’t put my finger on just yet. The boys’ room was a fucking trash bin, from what I could tell since I’ve been here, but it’s not like I haven’t seen worse.

Finally, Carl grabbed a Nintendo DS from underneath the bed, climbed into his own bed, and started playing. How he wasn’t going down for game night, I wasn’t sure. All of the typical Gallagher fun was down there and shit. He didn’t need to keep me company or anything.

“The fuck you up here for?” I started to sign, and when he saw my hands moving in his peripheral vision, Carl looked up at me with confusion in his eyes.

“What?” I saw his lips move.

Rolling my eyes, I took the paper and pen and wrote down my question again for him to see. When he read it, his lips formed an O-shape, finally recognizing what I was saying. Then I waited a few more seconds for him to write something down. He gave me the paper back with his response: “They already have four players for Monopoly, and Mandy and Lip are hogging the TV. Besides, you’re the only person other than Liam with shit else to do.”

“I think I prefer it that way, but thanks.” Secretly, though I’m glad Carl’s here to keep me company, even if I didn’t really want him to be before.

Carl took the paper back, scribbled something down underneath my handwriting, and gave the paper back to me. I looked down and read his next sentence. “If you want, we could play _Mario_ on the DS. I could ask Lip for his so we could play.” When I looked back up, Carl was waving his own DS in his hand.

I wasn’t up for playing anything, especially with an injured arm I have to deal with for the next few months or so. Then again, the offer did sound tempting, just a little.

“My left hand’s out of business, man,” I wrote back to him.

“We could play on the same DS then,” Carl responded, climbing out of his bed and heading back over to Ian’s. “You press the buttons with your good hand, and I’ll press the ones with my left.”

This guy’s really fucking persistent, even if he rarely shows it. Still, I’m bored off my ass here, waiting for Ian to come back home from work, and Carl doesn’t seem like he’s giving up on his fight.

With that in mind, I allowed him to scoot closer to me with the device in his hand, opening it some more so I could see the screen light up with a bunch of animated characters on it. He had the game with fucking Donkey Kong on it, and I had to prevent myself from laughing a little bit at this weird ass animal.

Carl and I played about three games on it so far, and truth be told, I was actually having a little bit of fun. I didn’t feel as down as I was moments before.

* * *

“Shit!” Lip exclaimed, falling back hard in the couch. The two of us were playing _Mario Party_ , and I beat Lip by a nose.

I was too fucking happy. I almost stood up and did a fucking victory dance, for Christ’s sake, but my leg was still a little fucked up, so I decided against it. In a few days’ to a week’s time, it won’t hurt as much like it did the day Mickey and I went to the hospital. Right now, though, I didn’t want to take too much of a chance.

“I almost fucking had you!” Lip shouted, and I couldn’t stop smiling at him because I was actually that proud of myself.

“Try a little harder next time, Gallagher,” I replied, pressing a button on the controller. Lip ran both of his hands over his face, feeling defeated and shitty as hell. He needs to play some rounds with some of my older brothers; they all would definitely kick his ass.

Lip groaned as he started to roll the dice on the screen for his next turn. “Fuck, now I’m in third place to that goddamn CPU motherfucker.” Since we’re the only two people playing this game, and this was a four-person game, the CPU automatically played the other two characters in the game. I was beating everyone so far and had no intentions on backing down.

It got a little silent in the room, with the exception of the sounds from the television and the cheers from the kitchen – Fiona sounded like she was winning, and Kevin sounded like he wanted his money back or some shit.

“You always have these family game nights and shit?” I ended up asking Lip. There hasn’t been one here in the Gallagher house in a couple of months, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. We Milkoviches never had that kind of tradition growing up. We played video games, but we played with more than three people only on very rare occasions.

“Debbie wanted to make it a thing when she was seven. After that, it just stuck.” That’s understandable. She’s not the baby of the household anymore, not with Liam running around and all, but she does seem like the type that wants to get everyone involved. “Why you ask?”

I shrugged. “Our family never does this,” I explained, pressing a couple buttons on my controller. Five spaces. Nice. “We play video games, but we don’t do that Brady Bunch shit you guys do.”

Lip chuckled. “We’re the furthest thing from the Brady Bunch.”

“The furthest?”

Lip playfully rolled his eyes. “Okay, not as far as you guys, but we’re not that close, either.” A sound on the video game went off, and Lip picked his controller back up again. “Sometimes Frank likes to think we’re our own version of it, but he’s drunk off his ass twenty-four seven. Hell, I’m surprised he has brain cells anymore.”

“Or that his clothes hadn’t rotten up by now,” I added, reminded of the day he walked passed me smelling like beer and dirt. “Dude’s fuckin’ gross.”

Lip and I were playing some multiplayer thing that appeared on the television screen when I asked, “aren’t you in your senior year already?”

“Pretty much. I’m kinda glad I’m done being in the same building with all of these goddamn ignoramuses.”

I snickered. “Freedom taste as good as it sounds?”

“Not just yet,” Lip noted. “Now I have to choose a college to go to.” At the sound of my raspberry, he hummed in agreement. “Yep. My girlfriend’s been choosing schools for me a while ago.”

“Your girlfriend?”

Lip nodded. “Carrie.”

“Like the bloody bitch, Carrie?” I’ll admit that, after hearing Lip’s snicker, that my joke was a little funny.

“She’s an extrovert, one of those socialite-ish girls with the big ambitions.”

Basically the opposite of me, minus the will to leave this town. I don’t have that many ambitions. Hell, I don’t even know what I wanna be when I grow up. People usually figure that shit out in their junior year of high school, don’t they? I don’t have shit in mind that I want to do.

Lip’s nothing like me. He’s smart as fuck and seems to have everything good coming to him – well, except his fucked-up parents and his family’s struggle to earn money for this house.

“Tell her I said, good luck,” I replied as we continued on the game in front of us.

“Can’t. We broke up a little while ago.”

“You give up a bitch with ambition bigger than your own?”

“That’s the point,” Lip explained. “She got too controlling about it. She was always on my ass about writing essays and shit for the applications months back, expecting me to think about what classes I want to take if I get accepted to certain schools – just too much shit for me to even think about right now. It got annoying over time, and I ended up telling her about it, which led into a big fight –“

His focus was returned to the game when we realized we were both being beaten by the second CPU player. I groaned when the multiplayer game was over, almost tossing my controller to the side. “Blew up in our faces just like that,” Lip stated. Perfect timing, too, I guess.

I took the opportunity to turn in his direction and frown. “So you’re not gonna go to any of the schools she helped you apply to?”

“I’m not cut out for half of the shit she helped me apply to,” Lip answered. “Besides, filling in the online applications with all of my personal information for me isn’t really _helping_ , is it?”

Was Lip really serious, giving up a girl because she cared and then doubting himself? I mean, I don’t like it when people are crawling down my neck about every goddamn thing, but Lip is a fucking smart guy; I can imagine his GPA is breaking some kind of fucking record out of everyone in his class. And from what I’ve heard among all of the Gallaghers, they all wanted at least one of them to make it out of the South Side. Lip’s that one Gallagher that’s sure to make it, yet when the opportunity is given to him, he refuses.

What kind of shit was that?

“You’re a fucking asshole,” I sneered at him.

Lip turned to me with an actually-offended look. “What? She doesn’t know what I want to do with my life.”

“Yeah, but you do,” I responded with as much bite, if not more. “You know what you wanna do, and you have all this good shit going for you, yet you bat an eye and turn away from every opportunity you have in front of you, waiting for you to take them.” There was a brief beat in the conversation, and then I chuckled at his ridiculousness. “Shit, if I were you, I’d aim for those suit and tie institutions while I still have the chance.”

“Well, that’s you,” Lip muttered under his breath, pressing buttons on his controller. “I’m not the Ivy League type.”

“Who says it _has_ to be fucking Ivy League? It can still be the best of the best without some pompous ass Dean of Admissions behind it. Regardless, you’re eligible for this shit.” When Lip didn’t respond, his eyes focused on the game in front of us, I snatched the controller out of his hands.

“Yo, what the fuck?”

“Aren’t you listening to me?”

“Yes. Shit, I heard you.”

“Clearly not enough. Trust me, Lip. You’re gonna realize what the fuck you lost at the last minute, and you’re gonna regret it.” A groan escaped Lip’s mouth, and my shoulders slumped a bit. I may be sounding like that fucking Carrie chick right now, but I’m not gonna lie and say she didn’t have a point.

“We both have pretty shit dads,” I spoke after a few minutes of silence. “That’s not a secret to any of us anymore, and we know that.” Lip leaned over, his elbows on his knees and his fingers running through his own hair. “Every day of our lives, we find ourselves hating them for everything they stand for. They’re usually the ones who take their sons fishing and their daughters to the father-daughter dances. Frank and Dad, they’re not like those dads. They don’t care about us and our futures.”

Lip sighed again. “I know how important school and shit is, Mandy,” he explained, “and I get that all of the ones she helped me apply for are good, but…God, I don’t like feeling like I can’t do anything on my own. Ivy Leagues just aren’t my preference, that’s all.”

“I’m past the Ivy League shit now. Just hear me out.” Lip turned a little in my direction, and I continued my rant. “I’m just saying that you have a pretty good influence in your life outside of your family. Fiona and Ian, they mean well and shit, and your girlfriend was a little dumb to apply to shit for you, I’ll admit. Still, she’s getting you somewhere, whether you like it or not.” I scoffed. “Fuck, my dad won’t even encourage me when I get good grades anymore. Says school is for pussies, but he probably never even seen a degree.”

Lip was silent for a little while, but when his thoughts were together, he glanced back up at me with some uncertainty in his face. “You never had anyone like that? Anyone that did all the encouraging and shit?”

I shook my head. I really wish I did, though, because life is already harder than it looks. “Mama always told Mickey and me that we would be something great.” My eyes fell down to my own lap. “That’s was all the encouragement we ever got, and no one really helped us past that point, either.”

Lip nodded, biting down on his bottom lip as he stared down at his hands. “I-If you want, I could be that for you.” I frowned at him. “The guy who helps past the encouragement part.”

How ironic. “Are you gonna at least take one of your ex’s fucking offers?”

A few seconds past as Lip’s eyes fell down to his lap one more time. With some finality, he glanced back up at me and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll consider them at least one more time.”

I nodded along with him. “Fine. I’ll take you up on your offer then.” I started to pick up my controller when I added, “but you’ll be in college already while I’m swimming in shit loads of math next school year. Plus, I’m pretty sure I’m failing every class at this point since the abortion and the fight with Dad happened.”

“What’s your GPA?”

“The fuck should I know? I just came here a couple of months ago; I practically missed half a school year’s worth of assignments.”

“Fine. What was it at your last school?”

At my last school, it was a little easier than now. I mean, homework and tests still bit me in the ass from time to time, but I wasn’t pulling my hair off my skull every day. Maybe it had to do with the fact that it was my freshman and sophomore year of high school. That, and I’ve been having troubles at my old school when Dad was up to his bullshit again before we moved.

“Shit, a 2.9?” That came out more like a question than an answer. I didn’t pay attention to GPAs that much, primarily because Dad told me, no matter what number came up on my report cards, that school wouldn’t help me do anything.

I had the worst influences growing up, and I fucking hate it.

“You can still bring it up and shit in time before you graduate?”

“My average will probably be shit still once they put everything together.”

Lip shook his head. “It’s better than nothing.”

We continued to play the _Mario Party_ game in front of us a couple more rounds. Somehow, Lip beat the first CPU player and stole a star from me. “Hey, what the fuck?” I exclaimed, wanting to throw a pillow at this motherfucker.

“Still think I’m a smart ass?”

No fucking doubt about it.

* * *

It was past one in the morning, and everyone was already asleep when I entered the house. Fiona texted me earlier about family game night, and while I wanted to spend that Friday night with my family, I also knew I had a job to do.

This is the third night I’ve been to the club. Turns out people love me more than I expected them to. Sure, I was sweaty as shit when I was done, but it was all worth it in the end – or so I thought, anyway. When I was getting dressed to go home, I realized I made about a hundred and forty bucks that night. That was a little more than the other two nights I went, which was progress.

All of the lights were off in the house, but I didn’t want to wake anyone up. So I took my shoes off and placed them by the stairs before sneaking up the stairs towards the bathroom. A couple of creaks were heard in the floor boards, but no one woke up to the sound of them.

I crept into my room and patted around for my pajamas, keeping quiet in case Carl, Lip, Liam, or even Mickey woke up.

Speaking of Mickey, he was actually sleeping in my bed tonight. Usually, he would sneak out of the room he and Mandy shared to come sleep with me. Now, he came here first to sleep in my bed. My heart was literally swollen at the sight of his sleeping form. He had to be careful in case he rolled over on his arm, but he still looked like the same, old sleepy Mickey I’ve gotten to know.

As quietly as I could, I crept back out of the bedroom into the bathroom so I could take a quick, warm shower. No one touched me like that or anything while I was at work, which was a relief, but the smell of sweat clung to me like a lifeline, and I needed to get rid of that shit.

When I was done washing up and getting dressed, I returned to the bedroom but to only kneel down beside the bed, watching the rise and fall of Mickey’s chest. He deserved this sleep. He deserved every bit of it. After all he’s suffered through, he needs to be at as much peace as he can obtain.

I sighed a little and watched him for a couple of seconds before I began whispering to him. I know he couldn’t hear it, and I honestly didn’t want to disturb him in any way, but I wanted to be sincere and honest with myself. I don’t have enough cash on me right now, but I’m getting closer to achieving my goal of helping Mickey and Mandy.

This town had some angels hiding out somewhere, but they couldn’t seem to get themselves out with all of the demons and catastrophes surrounding them. Mickey and Mandy could potentially get themselves out of their hell holes; it's all just a matter of resources, and that's what I planned on providing them.

“Don’t worry, Mick,” I whispered softly, making sure my brothers didn’t hear me from across the room. “I’m gonna help you and your sister out of here. You two won’t have to suffer any longer. Just trust me. This isn’t the best way to acquiring your needs, but understand that I’m trying the hardest I can. You’ll most likely get mad at me sooner or later, and I’m bracing myself for when that happens. But just know that I’m doing this for a reason. You’re the only person in this world that I’ll ever love, and none of that will change. Okay?”

I sat there for a few more seconds, hearing Mickey’s soft snores before I leaned over to his temple and placed a gentle kiss there. Gazing down at his face one more time, I whispered, “I love you.”

When I was done, I climbed into the bed next to him, careful in case I pressed down on his body or anything, and slowly fell into a deep sleep by Mickey’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so we're clear, there's no Lip/Mandy romance in this. I almost had Lip kiss her in this chapter, but I thought against it because it would have felt a little...weird, you know?
> 
> Also, announcement. Um...I might be delaying on writing the prompts in my inbox for a little while. I want to finish working on the two prompts I currently have in my documents, The Chief of Sexual Affairs, this story, and a few other multichapter prompts I have gotten ideas for. I'll probably take prompts when I have all of this settled, and my life gets somewhat organized. Right now, though, I need to sort things out. But you all are free to come chat with me on [my Tumblr](http://promqueen-and-hairgel.tumblr.com/ask).
> 
> I hope everyone has a good day/night, and happy reading. <3


	48. The Million-Dollar Dilemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My eyes fell back to the money in the bag, more out of frustration and confusion than anything else. It took a lot of energy out of me to just tell Ian what was on my mind about this whole situation, and now he’s getting upset with me for a decision he didn’t even think to discuss with me about. I’m very well aware that he wanted to do something for me and my sister – I could understand him on that front. But it’s like he wasn’t even paying attention to me anymore, like all of my thoughts went in through one end and out the other."

The weekend was finally here, and I thanked God every moment for it. I had all the time in the world to sleep my ass off and do whatever lazy shit I wanted until Monday rolled around again.

It’s not like I didn’t want to go to Patsy’s with Fiona; seeing some action that didn’t involve violence against me and my sister was pretty relaxing for a change. That’s just how I am, though. I’m not the person who’s eager to get his ass up to sit around in some restaurant for the entire time until their temporary caretaker is done for the day. Waking up to get dressed and head out of the house to someone’s work place took a lot of energy out of me. I never did anything like that before. The only times I would get out of bed and get dressed for something – or at least before I stopped going to public school and shit – was to run some errands for Dad, as reluctant and shit I was to actually do so. Now I actually gotta get ready every morning like everyone else just to sit on the side somewhere and do nothing.

But according to Fiona, it’s for my own safety, which is better than the alternative. So I took her word on that.

Today’s Saturday, though, and the younger Gallaghers were staying home while Fiona went to work, so I’ll have company in case Dad just so happens to bust his ass back in here somehow.

I really hope he fucking doesn’t.

Even if it was a Saturday, though, that didn’t prevent me from waking up so goddamn early in the morning.

I felt some kisses to my temple, cheek, and lips, and I already knew that Ian was awake. I’m pretty sure I was blushing from it, but fuck it if that makes me look like a school girl. I felt Ian’s grin against my lips as he kissed me, and I kissed him back a little, too, although my kisses were a little weaker since I was just now waking up.

Finally, I gained the strength to open my eyes and stretch my damn limbs out. The sun was rising in the background somewhere out the window, but it wasn’t fully out yet, meaning that it was early in the fucking morning when Ian decided to wake me up.

Yep. Six-thirty in the fucking morning. Smug bastard.

At the movement of Ian’s hands, I turned my head back in his direction as he signed, “morning, Mick.” Yeah, sure, Gallagher. Thanks for waking me up at fuck o’clock in the morning for no reason; I surely didn’t need a couple more hours of rest.

My eyes fell back onto Ian as I observed his attire. The jackass was already dressed in a blue hoodie, a white T-Shirt underneath, and some gray fucking jogging pants like he’s about to run in the damn marathon. How the fuck he still manages to get up so early and behave like a perky ass jelly bean or some shit, I will never know. And if he expects me to join him, he has another thought coming.

Still, though, Ian has been out late all night and shit, and he still finds the energy to get up early in the morning on a fucking weekend. It makes me wonder what the hell he was even doing to provide him with all that energy. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was fucking ecstasy; then again, his health record seems to be in order, from what I can tell, and I don’t want him fucking things up for himself.

The question was on the tip of my tongue as to what the hell he was up to last night. He never told me what kind of job it was, though I do know it has a night shift. Whatever it was, it was probably making him happy, for all I know. I deserve the right to know more about it, though. I am his fucking boyfriend.

Shit. Days pass all the time, and referring to myself as Ian’s boyfriend still sends shivers down my back.

“Where were you last night?” I ended up signing to him out of curiosity. Hell, even my fingers felt too lazy to move on their own. Sometimes the early bird getting the damn worm or whatever ain’t worth it if he’s not well rested.

Ian looked at me with a slight frown and signed back, “I went to work.”

 _No shit, Ian. No shit_. “I meant where did you go for work, moron?” Ian chuckled a bit in response, and something in me made me smirk a little back, though this was a serious matter I’m trying to deal with here.

Ian bent down some and pressed a kiss to my lips for a good few seconds, the two of us exchanging saliva and letting our tongues graze over each other, before Ian pulled back again. “Come down to the van with me,” Ian signed. “I’ll talk about it with you there.” With that, Ian was off the bed and out of the room, leaving me to groan and stare up at the ceiling.

 _How do I still put up with Ian Gallagher?_ That’s pretty much an ongoing study I’m making, at this point.

After a few seconds on the mattress, I rolled out of bed and got washed up and dressed before heading downstairs. No one in the house other than me and Ian were awake yet, though Fiona would most likely be up in about a half an hour later when it’s time for her to start going to work.

I was a little scared to open the back door and join Ian outside. Who the fuck knows if Dad is still out there or not? He could be stalking the two of us more exclusively now, since he’s been more than livid about finding out about our relationship. It’s like Mandy isn’t even a part of the equation anymore; Dad’s mainly after me. I’m the mistake that he’s made, and he’s willing to take me out anyway he can.

Lucky for me, Ian had checked the atmosphere outside first before inviting me out. He poked his head back through the back door and signed, “coast is clear,” extending his hand towards me. I grabbed his hand back, and we were both out into the yard before we knew it.

We try to use the van as much as we can. Most of the time, we’re in here just to fuck and drink some of the beer Ian stole from Frank out of the fridge – and he gets fairly upset when he finds out someone in the house has been swiping his stash, though he does a piss poor job of hiding it away or maintaining it. Other times, we’re usually in here when we just want to be alone with each other. We could very well do it in the bedroom, but Ian’s three other brothers often need the space to do homework or some shit.

Everyone in the household, along with Kevin and Veronica next door, knows that we’re a couple now, which means Ian and I don’t get away with too much like we did when we were a secret. And yes, to this day, I’m still worried about what else Dad could do to me when he finds out more details on me and Ian, but having more people supporting me than despising me really helps.

Ian opened the van door, and we both climbed inside, shutting the door behind us. I was gonna address Ian’s job again when Ian leaned in on me and pressed a kiss to my lips. He was in an affectionate mood today, which left me both suspicious and somewhat pleased.

When he released me, I giggled a little bit and signed, “cheesy fucker,” because that what he actually was. He’s a cheesy, lanky ass guy that just so happens to be my boyfriend.

And…there it is again. Fuckin’ stomach’s doing somersaults and shit.

Ian smiled a little to himself before he signed, “I wanna show you something.” He crawled around a bit in the van towards a black bag near the back of the passenger seat. It wasn’t full or anything, but Ian was digging around in it like it was, which made me a little curious. What the hell was Ian doing at his job that he wanted to show me? What could possibly be in that bag that he couldn’t bring upstairs to the room?

He dragged the bag over to me and pulled out a few dollar bills. They weren’t just random one-dollar bills anyone could find on the street. No, there were actually fifties and even hundred-dollar bills inside the bag. I haven’t seen that much money in a while, not since my grandma on Mama’s side gave me some money for Christmas a few years ago.

“The hell is this?” I asked him, taking the risk and grabbing a twenty from inside the bag.

“From my job. I earned it.”

How could Ian make this much fucking money in only a few days? The people down at McDonald's can barely make thirty dollars within a few days.

Unless…

“Earned it from where?”

Ian stopped to stare at me for a couple of seconds, and my heart started pumping a little bit. In the back of my mind, I knew it was something bad. I almost questioned whether or not he actually stole this shit or something; had that happened, and we’d both be in deep shit with the law.

There was also another alternative I had hidden in my head somewhere, but I really hoped it wasn’t true. From Ian’s hesitation to tell me about it, though, that was probably the case.

But I begged from the bottom of my heart that it wasn’t.

That is, until Ian started signing again. “The Fairy Tail.”

“The fuck is that?”

Ian was still for a moment, staring into my eyes for a moment. Then, the confession came, and I had no idea on what to do with it. “A club…in downtown Chicago.”

He had to be fucking kidding, right? No way was Ian actually dancing in a goddamn club, right?

Without thinking too much about it, I punched him in the arm, almost knocking him back into the van window behind him. “Mickey, what the fuck?”

“I don’t know, Gallagher. You tell me.” I needed answers like yesterday. I need answers for pretty much everything, like why Ian thought it was okay to start working at a club without telling me about it first. Or why Ian thought going to a club downtown was anywhere near beneficial or a good idea. Nothing seemed to add up. “Tell me why you had any interest in considering a club job in the first place, let alone not telling me about it before you signed the fuck up.”

I watched as Ian’s body deflated before my eyes. He looked like a kid who just knocked over a vase and shattered it into bits. There had to be some kind of guilt hidden in the back of his mind somewhere. More than that, I needed to know what kind of explanation he had for working at The Fairy Tail to begin with. What was it about that place that made him want to work there?

“I know I should have let you in on all of this before I actually went and applied for the job –“

I scoffed. “You fucking think?”

“But I wanted to surprise you with the money,” Ian continued, gesturing towards the bag in between us. “I wanted to raise enough of it so you and Mandy could get out of here and find a safe place to stay…” He paused. “You know, in case Terry didn’t get caught by the cops…or anything like that. I didn’t intend on on-purposely hurting you –“

“But you did,” I interrupted, and his shoulders slumped again at the sight of my movements. My upper body shook a little bit, and I worried that I was gonna eventually lose myself. “You fucking hurt me, is what you did. Do you realize how long I’ve waited the past few nights just so your ass could get back home?”

And I meant it when I said _home_ , too. The Gallagher house is my home, no matter where my blood family was located or what was written on the deed for the actual building. “Someone, whether it be your oldest sister or my youngest one, always has to come downstairs and get me when they realize I’m still awake. But what the fuck am I supposed to do, huh? Am I supposed to go to bed, thinking everything is fine and shit when you’re out on the fucking streets _that_ late at night – and with a bunch of old dudes, rubbing their dirty dollars in your face?”

Ian didn’t respond. His head fell out of guilt and disappointment. Whatever plan he had cooking in his head, he expected that shit to work out. As helpful as I knew he was – when he first noticed Mandy and me having problems, he wouldn’t shut up about our well being once – I didn’t need him doing all of this for us. Mandy and I had each other and the rest of the Gallaghers. Minus two prior incidents, we’re fine here. Sure, we could run away to a new place, but what was a new place to live gonna do for us, especially when Dad could very well follow us there?

I sighed for a moment, staring ahead at Ian’s face. His bottom lip had been sucked into his mouth, and his eyes were focused on the money inside the bag. He was trying his best, and I loved him every second for that, but this wasn’t what I wanted him to do. I just want him to stay with me, and everything can be fine from there. He and his family are the best things that’s happened to my life so far, and minus Mandy and Mama, I had a pretty shitty life, if I did say so myself. The only thing that could make my life even shittier is the possibility of Ian sacrificing everything – even his goddamn body – when he really didn’t need to. Yes, club dancers make a lot of money for shaking their asses or whatever, and money was a wonderful fucking thing, but not a damn dime was going to be worth anything if Ian’s giving up everything he has just to help me and my sister.

A couple of seconds later, I reached my hand over to his and grabbed it gently, causing him to glance back up in my direction. His expression was unreadable now. Maybe he was upset. Maybe he was sad. Maybe he didn’t care. Regardless, he had to know that I did.

“I ain’t got no problem with money or anything, Ian,” I signed again, “and it’s great that you’re helping us and all, but…we don’t need it, man. Okay?”

We didn’t flinch or anything for a few minutes. I figured that this would be considered the end of our little argument or whatever, but then I saw Ian let out an unsteady breath. Fuck. My body was shivering itself just watching him. “Is it wrong for me to want to contribute something, though?” He shrugged. “I just wanted to do what I could to –“

“You’re doing enough, Ian. Shit.” I signed, frustrated. My fingers ran through my own hair impatiently after that. “I already told you. We’re fucking fine. So just drop it.”

Nothing happened for a few more moments, but after that, Ian started to collect himself a bit and crawl on out of the van. I didn’t need him doing this shit. Was he getting my words in his head at all? I made a move to grab his arm, but he shook my hand away at the first touch, opening the van door and climbing out completely, heading back in the house.

 _Fuck. Shit_. I could hear my own mantra of curses flowing through my veins. Why was Ian being so fucking difficult right now is beyond me.

My eyes fell back to the money in the bag, more out of frustration and confusion than anything else. It took a lot of energy out of me to just tell Ian what was on my mind about this whole situation, and now he’s getting upset with me for a decision he didn’t even think to discuss with me about. I’m very well aware that he wanted to do something for me and my sister – I could understand him on that front. But it’s like he wasn’t even paying attention to me anymore, like all of my thoughts went in through one end and out the other.

And that’s when a somewhat distant yet significant memory appeared in my brain. It was back when Debbie and I were making those cupcakes and shit for her school. We had been talking about Ian and shit while the cupcakes were baking. Debbie’s words came back to me like a ton of bricks.

 _He told me that he’s always wanting to help other people and stuff, but his efforts get pushed to the side without much of a thank you_.

I remembered Debbie telling me about what happened when Ian did some good deed around the house, or when he wanted to express his deepest concerns and act on them and shit. Ian being the middle child and all, it complicated a lot of things for him, which I started to understand the more Debbie’s words replayed in my system.

She also mentioned something about Ian joining the army, too, and having to use Lip’s identity to get in and shit. _It was his dream job. He wanted to help other people by fighting people outside the country, feel like he had a purpose in life_. Finding purpose was the mutual reason Ian joined the army and signed up to work at the club. Ian even said himself that he wanted to contribute to something. This was what he was talking about.

Ian had some pretty serious abandonment issues, from what I could tell already, and it sucks that he still has to deal with people sidelining him to this day. Now, it made me feel kinda guilty that I got angry with him and all. Still, my feelings were hurt by the club thing in general, as much as I knew that he didn’t mean to hurt them in the first place.

I didn’t want Ian to feel alone anymore. If this was how alone and neglected he was feeling, then someone had to help him the fuck out somehow. Sure, I was there for him already, and I’m pretty sure everyone else is, too. However, it didn’t feel like enough, according to Ian. Someone had to let him in on how they really felt about him before he starts full-on denying his self-worth.

More importantly, someone had to know about this clubbing thing and what danger he could possibly get into. Having some fifty-something year old man fuck him in an alley downtown somewhere could have serious consequences, and Ian didn’t deserve to be in that situation – the same one Mandy found herself in the night Dad raped her.

Taking the bag full of money with me, I crawled on out of the van and took it inside. The only one on the first level of the house at the moment was Fiona. She seemed to have waken up sometime while Ian and I were in the van, because there was a shit ton of ingredients for pancakes spread across the counter. Unfortunately for her, there wasn’t any milk left, so she seemed to have given up on that.

She was pacing around the kitchen floor, perhaps creating a hole in it or something. Her hair was a complete mess – she looked like she hadn’t worked on it at all since she woke up. Usually, she went out for work at around eight or nine, so we wasn’t late or anything. There was something else going on.

Mandy came downstairs a few seconds later, eyeing Fiona as she called someone on the other line before she turned to me. “Mick, why the fuck was Ian coming up the stairs upset? He looked like he was gonna fucking cry or something, and he won’t talk to me. What the fuck happened down here?”

I was afraid of Mandy finding out before either one of us had the chance to say anything about it.

“What the hell is that?” Mandy asked, pointing to the bag in my hands. I started to move away from here, wanting to hold the news off for a few more minutes – at least until Fiona got off the phone with whomever she was talking to – but Mandy grabbed onto the strap of the bag before I had a chance to get away.

A sudden flash of green seemed to have caught her eye, because she stilled all of a sudden, her eyes stuck on the inside where the money was sitting. I was still along with her, but only for a couple of seconds before she slapped me upside the head. “Mickey, where the fuck did you get that from?”

I settled the bag in between my feet and signed, “the fuck are you hitting me for?”

“Mickey, I swear to God,” Mandy signed, a frown appearing on her face, “if you fucking stole that cash –“

“I didn’t.”

We had been silently arguing back and forth all this time; we almost didn’t see Fiona standing there staring at us. She long hung up the phone and brought her attention to us, sensing some conflict forming before her very eyes. She said something to the both of us, but only Mandy could actually hear it. Unfortunately, neither one of us had the guts to respond.

Well, not yet anyway. Mandy had signed something that didn’t even relate to our current situation. It appeared that she knew a little bit about what Fiona was talking about over the phone. “Who was that over the phone? Was that the principal?” Okay, so apparently the high school called about something. Whatever it was, I didn’t have a care in the world for it.

That is, until Fiona mouthed something I was yet to understand. As she spoke, Mandy signed her words to me: “I got a call from the school saying that Ian’s slipping in some of his classes. His last class’s teacher even said that he hasn’t been showing up.”

Fuck. It can’t be. Ian’s not ditching school for the fucking club, right?

Fiona’s eyes fell to the bag that was sitting near my feet, and she started asking the both of us, “what you got in there?” Her eyebrows knitted close together curiously. My ears may not be working anymore, but ironically, I could hear both Mandy’s heart beat and mine pick up at a very fast pace as we both nervously eyed Fiona from afar.

I could feel Mandy’s eyes burning holes into the side of my head. She already knew about the money, but she was yet to know where it came from and why. I almost regretted coming in here with a shit ton of cash in this bag, because both Mandy and Fiona would most likely flip their shit at Ian for what he’s done, if I were to explain everything in detail.

Speaking of Ian, my mind started to drift off to him, wondering what his reaction would be if he found out that I told our sisters about the cash. Would he lash his anger out at me? Would he not trust me anymore? Would he freak out about the possibility of him getting in trouble for it?

I let my nostrils suck in some air for a moment, the oxygen filling my lungs before I nervously exhaled the air out. Whatever Ian’s reaction may be, I wanted to protect him from getting himself into danger. He may believe that he’s the one protecting me, but I’m the one over here trying to save his ass.

I bent down to pick up the bag by the strap and walked towards the counter where Fiona was to lift it to the surface, the money coming into her line of vision. Her frown deepened as she observed the dollar bills inside the bag. I couldn’t tell if she was mad or confused, though it looked like a mixture of both.

Her eyes fell onto mine, and she mouthed, “where’d you get this from?” She was most likely still confused as hell if she believed that the money was coming from me. Yes, I was somewhat involved in all of this, but I had nothing to do with it.

I could feel Mandy’s presence right next to me, and that alone somewhat made me feel claustrophobic, and I was usually comfortable around my sister, unless some personal shit like my feelings for Ian or whatever situation we were going through came up. This also applied to pretty much every other Gallagher under this roof, especially Fiona.

My eyes fell upon both girls, my stomach turning every which way as I came up with the best possible way to lay all of this out for them. It wasn’t easy, especially when this, like the phone call with the school Fiona just had, were mutually related to Ian.

I eventually signed something slowly – out of nerves, for the most part – to Mandy before she spoke them to Fiona. I already knew, from the look on both of their faces, that this wasn’t going to end well with Ian. Actually, this wasn’t going to end well in general, and the ending to this conflict was the scariest, most anticipated moment I never wanted to see coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this chapter was so hard to write. I had to keep rewriting the Ian/Mickey scene over and over again until I settled on the one exchange that I was satisfied with, and even then, I still felt like I was doubting myself somewhere. Writing this storyline is hard, in a sense, but I'm glad I ended up where I wanted to be in this chapter anyway.
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter in the comments below, and if you want to talk, send me a message [here](http://promqueen-and-hairgel.tumblr.com/ask). I'm not available to take prompts right now, but I am willing to discuss anything you like. And I hope you all have a wonderful day/night where you are. <3


	49. I Just Wanna Be Good Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fiona had no idea what she wanted to do with the information she was just given. Maybe it’s taking her a while to get past the stripping part. Maybe she’s too disappointed to actually form words. Maybe it’s both. I don’t know. She’s always been on top of all of her siblings, even when they were too independent at a certain time to need her. This, however, was something completely different. This wasn’t whether or not Ian needed help with English homework; this was on a whole new level."

_The Fairy Tail. Stripping. Underage_.

Never have I once considered those words in the same sentence as Ian’s name. Never. Had we all lived in other lives where we didn’t meet each other like this, and maybe it would be a possibility. Maybe if Mickey and I were a little older than we are now, wandering downtown somewhere and me convincing Mickey to find a nice guy at the club to take home with him or something, that wouldn’t be as shocking.

His motives made sense, according to Mickey’s story about how he acquired the money in the first place. I’ll give him credit for that, because honestly, nothing would make me happier than for me and my brother to be a million miles away from our dad so we can actually live a safe and healthy life. We never get to have that stuff, not since Mama committed suicide when we were kids.

But the idea of exposing his body just for us? I mean, there has to be other ways to accomplish that, although I will admit that club dancing is one of the fastest.

Fiona had no idea what she wanted to do with the information she was just given. Maybe it’s taking her a while to get past the stripping part. Maybe she’s too disappointed to actually form words. Maybe it’s both. I don’t know. She’s always been on top of all of her siblings, even when they were too independent at a certain time to need her. This, however, was something completely different. This wasn’t whether or not Ian needed help with English homework; this was on a whole new level.

She ran a hand through her brunette hair, staring down at the counter top. As she did so, Mickey turned in my direction and gave me a nervous look. For the first time since we’ve been here, Mickey appears to be astoundingly worried for Ian. Not even the day Ian and Frank got into their fight in the living room brought this kind of reaction out of him, and that’s saying something.

“H-How did he…?” Fiona started, but she wasn’t sure on how to complete her question. She had no idea where to start. All of this was confusing for her, and I don’t blame her. “How come he didn’t tell me?”

That, I wasn’t so sure on, so I just shrugged. Mickey just turned his head between me and Fiona, wondering what the both of us had on our minds. “He probably just wanted to do what he can to help.”

Fiona nodded as if she was pointing out the obvious. “Well…yeah, I can see that,” she replied, gesturing towards the bag of money in front of Mickey, “but…” She ran a hand through her hair again, something she seemed to do out of habit when stuck in a stressful situation like this.

“I’ve seen you guys interact with Ian from afar and everything,” Fiona began after a little exhale she released from her lips, and I signed every word, keeping my eyes on the somewhat defeated look on Fiona’s face. “I just want to say, first of all, that I’m glad Ian had the opportunity to meet you two. He doesn’t bring classmates here that often as a friend; they were mostly here for school projects and stuff like that.”

Mickey and I nodded. I knew Ian hung out with a few people in school a few times, but he never once introduced to me any of them as a best friend or anything like that – probably just some occasional people in his life he secretly could give two shits about, but who knows?

“And by now, we’re all aware of the situation that’s been going on with you two,” Fiona continued, glancing at me and Mickey, making sure we understood every word she was saying. “After finding out about that prick in the neighborhood, I wanted nothing more than for you two to stay safe – and I still do, which is why you guys are staying here. You know that, right?”

Mickey nodded, taking a gulp before he turned to me, and I turned back towards Fiona to respond. “Yeah, we got it.”

Fiona nodded, her body rising a bit as she took a big inhale, followed by a stressed exhale. I could tell she was still trying to process all of this. I know deep down she still loves her younger brother with all her heart, but the fact that she hadn’t been told about what he was doing – not to be controlling or anything to get him to stop, I hope; she just wanted to know – was probably eating at her right now.

“I just…” Fiona started, biting down on her bottom lip a little. “Mandy, you and Ian have a year and a few weeks of high school left. Those last moments of high school are supposed to be the most special and life-changing ones of your life. Those were the moments I didn’t have the opportunity to have.” My shoulders slumped at that a bit, and Fiona just continued her story. “We were all pretty much missing the parental support we were supposed to get from Frank and Monica and all. Unfortunately, they both kept leaving us when they had the chance to…do whatever.” Fiona frowned a bit at the memory of her mother and father. I understood how much of a terrible parent Dad was, but Fiona, Ian, and their siblings didn’t deserve what Frank and Monica did to them.

“We’ve gotten split up a couple of times by DCFS, and I didn’t want my brothers and sister living somewhere else where I couldn’t reach them. They didn’t want that, either, and if I wanted to accomplish anything, I had to take care of them and protect them. Since then, my siblings have been my main priority, and they still are, you know?”

I completely got it. Ever since that fateful Fourth of July when Mickey’s lost his hearing, he’s been emotionally damaged and mentally furious about Dad’s senselessness. I was, too, but not in the way Mickey was. When he was little, he would shout and make a bunch of noise just to get anyone’s attention, only for Dad to try and shut him up by beating him with a belt – or just the nearest, hard object he could find. He felt as if he was alone, that no one was listening to him or that the day wouldn’t get better because he was stuck in his own little sphere.

Luckily, he was wrong. Mama and I have been there for as long as we could remember. After Mama died, I still helped him, and even Iggy chipped in sometimes. Dad was still a piece of shit to him – he was either in denial about the situation in general, or he criticized Mickey and called him stupid because he couldn’t speak – but Mickey didn’t need him as much as Dad believes he does.

Mickey needed me. Mickey needed the Gallaghers. Mickey needed Ian. Now, he has all of us, and I have no intentions on losing him, just like Fiona doesn’t have any intentions on losing her siblings.

“I never got to complete high school the traditional way,” Fiona explained further, her voice a little softer than last time, “and that’s what I want for Lip. For Ian. For Debbie, Carl, Liam – I want them all to complete school and succeed. I want them to have whatever it is that I…can’t give them.” She sounded a little sad as she completed her sentence, her eyes falling down to the counter a bit and using her right hand for some kind of support.

This was more about Ian’s education than anything. He had to get out of here. He had to make something of himself. Lip’s gonna be the first Gallagher from under this roof who will make it to college, but Ian’s not going to be dependent on him or even Fiona for too much longer. He and I will be out of here in a year’s time, and after that, we can’t hold each other’s hands anymore – or anyone else’s, for that matter. We would be on our own. We would have to find our own ways to survive.

Ian helping us makes me more than grateful that someone like him is here on this God forsaken earth, but what Ian really needs to focus on himself.

“Ian can’t do all of those things if he’s skipping classes and letting his grades fall,” Fiona spoke after a long, intense beat of silence. When I signed her words to Mickey, his face fell a little bit, his eyes focused on the bag in front of him. This was especially hard on him because he loved Ian – not just because Ian accepted his condition and was willing to learn sign language for him, but Ian also wanted the best for him. For the both of us, actually. That’s how much Ian loved him back. He was willing to show off his body to a bunch of older men just to prove how much he cared.

But, like, who knows if this plan will backfire or not? Who knows whether or not Ian can actually earn enough to support the two of us? Not only that, but he also needs to focus on himself, too. I really want that for him, and I know Mickey does, too.

The three of us were in a deep silence before we started hearing footsteps coming from behind us. When we turned our heads in the direction of the noise, Ian started coming into view. He came to an abrupt stop the moment he spotted the three of us huddled around the kitchen counter, his eyes more focused on Mickey than the rest of us. “What’s going on?” he asked with his eyebrows furrowed.

None of us said anything. A part of me wondered if he overheard our conversation from upstairs and wanted to throw his input in or something, which would sound kinda bad, if we’re being really honest here.

Then again, this scenario looked just as bad, judging from the look on Ian’s face and the way his eyes darted towards the bag on the counter.

“What are you doing with that?” Ian asked, pointing in the direction of the bag. His frown deepened a bit in confusion at Mickey. “Mickey, what’s going on?”

Fiona and I had our heads turned towards Mickey, who was staring back at Ian with a worried expression on his face. All of the pressure was being placed on him to explain the conversation to Ian.

Thankfully, Fiona decided to step in, wanting to save him from the A and B tension between him and Ian. “Ian…” she began, taking another inhale and exhale, “I know that, given the circumstances, this might not be the most ideal way to get you to talk with us about this,” she continued, gesturing towards the bag. “Um…but there have been some problems coming up, and –“

“What problems?” Some irritation and disappointment was apparent in his voice, and I started to feel a little bit uncomfortable.

Fiona and Ian shared an intense stare for a couple of moments before Fiona answered, “the school called me today, and you’re apparently skipping your last-period classes. Is this true?”

Ian shrugged. “I have things to take care of –“

“That’s not what I asked, Ian.” Fiona’s voice was strong and stern. She wasn’t mad or anything, which I’m personally glad about, but her voice still made me nervous.

For a moment, Ian’s shoulders slumped a bit. He rolled his eyes some before they landed back on Fiona’s face. “Yeah, I…kinda ditched class, but it was for a good reason –“

“Ian,” Fiona interrupted again as calmly as she could, rounding the counter and walking over to the redhead, “I really need you to pay attention to me on this. Can you do that for me?” Ian didn’t speak this time; he just nodded, his confused frown still plastered on his forehead. “Look, I – I get it. I know you’re trying as hard as you can, I do. I know how much you’re trying to help solve the problem, but –“

Somewhere halfway into Fiona’s little speech, Ian craned his head around to cast a glance at Mickey, whose eyes fell to the tiles on the floor below our feet. I could tell that Ian felt somewhat betrayed by Mickey and what he did, and he had the right to be, in a sense. But Mickey sensed when problems could possibly occur. I’ve known my brother since I could talk, and I know that, as much as he appreciates Ian for what he’s doing, he believes there could also be some consequences in the near future.

“You told them about the plan, didn’t you?” Ian spoke up for the two of us to hear while he signed to Mickey. Mickey was too ashamed to respond back.

“Don’t put this on him, Ian,” Fiona replied, putting her hand on Ian’s shoulder. “He did the right thing by coming to talk to me about it.”

“I wanted to keep it between us for a little while,” Ian stated to Fiona. “How is that a right thing?”

Fiona sighed, combing her hair with the fingers on her left hand. She turned around for a moment to face me and Mickey, her shoulders slightly slumping at the looks on our faces. Finally, she turned back in Ian’s direction and sighed. Her speaking voice was a little lower than originally. “Look, Ian, I really… _really_ appreciate what you’re doing. Mickey and Mandy do as well, trust me.”

Ian’s head was slightly shaking at the realization of what Fiona was trying to say. “You…you want me to quit, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say that –“

“Fiona, this is helping fix the problem,” Ian debated with her. “All we gotta do is raise enough money to get them out of the South Side so they’ll have more than enough protection from Terry. It’ll work, Fiona. I just need to be there for a few weeks – a month, maybe.”

“I really prefer you to carry out your plan when school is out, Ian. Your grades are slipping at the home stretch of your junior year, and these are the grades that count towards college acceptance. I want you to focus on yourself, too, you know.”

I gulped at the scoff that escaped Ian’s mouth. Something about Ian’s attitude towards his sister started to feel off. He mumbled something incoherent underneath his breath that neither I nor Fiona could comprehend.

“Ian, what did you –“

“I said, school’s not gonna help me, Fiona,” Ian finally let out with an angry, exasperated voice. Fiona stepped back a bit at how much Ian raised his voice, and my skin started to shiver at how frustrated Ian sounded. “It’s not gonna help me help them.” His hand gestured out to me and Mickey, and when I turned my head towards my brother, I could see the way his teeth captured his bottom lip in fear.

A long silence fell upon us, and then, Ian started to chuckle breathlessly. “I’m done with school anyway…”

“You still have a few weeks, Ian,” Fiona explained. “You finish about a week and a half after Lip graduates. You know that.”

“No, I…” Ian began, and then he shrugged carelessly. “I mean I’m done.” His arms extended out to his sides briefly before they fell back down, his hands slapping against his jeans. “I don’t need this anymore, just like you don’t need me anymore.”

“Ian –“

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Fiona,” Ian barked, pointing an accusatory finger in her direction. “That’s the truth, isn’t it? You don’t need me anymore. You and Lip are basically the parents of the house now, taking control of everything, right? A-And…and Carl still gets in trouble often, so Lip has to be the Super Big Brother and make sure he doesn’t burn the house down. Then you have to show up to all of his parent-teacher conferences and shit because there’s always something happening down there, but of course, you have it covered, right?”

There was a beat before he continued. “Debbie’s obviously gonna need you to talk about girl stuff, so you have that department covered. And Liam’s too young to be on his own, obviously. So you and Lip have to take turns caring for him and everything. And now that Mickey and Mandy are here, you’re just itching for the Guardian of the Year Award and pushing me away from every chance at doing something right, for once.” He was quiet again, but this time, I could see his eyes get a little red as he stared into Fiona’s. He wasn’t exactly crying just yet or anything like that, though he looked to be on the verge of doing so. At that moment, he shrugged with a smile that conflicted the rest of his features. “There’s no room for me in the equation. You don’t need me.”

I felt the lump in my throat get a little bigger every passing second just from hearing Ian talk. It’s like he’s been holding all of this in for years and never had the opportunity to let it out until now. While it does make a little sense, him being the middle Gallagher and all, this was unexpected for me at the same time. Ian’s always been optimistic about helping the other Gallaghers with house stuff. He never complained once about having to donate money to the Gallaghers’ squirrel fund or anything like that.

Now all of this is being placed on the table, and the tension between Ian and Fiona is stronger than ever.

I couldn’t see Fiona’s from the angle she was standing in, but I knew she was crying a bit, judging by the sound of her voice. The lump in her throat was literally taking over the strength she had in her to speak. “Ian, you know that’s not true.”

“No, I don’t, and I’m done trying to get some type of validation from you that I’m actually trying to contribute to doing something around here.” He started to make his way past her, but before he could leave, Fiona made a move to hold Ian’s hand in an attempt to bring him back over to her. However, Ian wasn’t having any of it. “Get off of me!” he shouted at her, and after he snatched his hand out of her hold, he stormed up to the second floor. A sound wasn’t made throughout the entire house until the bedroom door upstairs slammed shut.

Ian was pissed. Actually, he was more than pissed, but not one word could accurately describe his condition right now. This was the lowest I’ve ever seen Ian since Mickey and I met him, which is a very frightful sign.

Fiona hadn’t moved since Ian left, and a hand was held up to her face. I could hear some of the little sobs that escaped her lips. She was full-on crying now, and that’s when I started worrying for her. Fiona never cried around us – not once, not ever. She kept her head up for us, for her siblings, and even for herself. She always knew what to do when one of us was suffering, and she wouldn’t let the demons invade our personal space, even if it took a frying pan to bat them away.

But her argument with Ian must have taken her over the edge. Something about the way Ian yelled at her and spilled his heart out to her broke her on the inside. Maybe she’s regretting treating Ian like an outsider. Maybe she’s heartbroken at the fact that Ian even considered the possibility of Fiona not giving two shits about him. Maybe it’s both. I’ll never really know for sure.

Mickey’s hand touched my arm, and I turned in his direction, taking note of the worried look on his face. This whole time, he witnessed Ian and Fiona go back and forth without deciphering the actual words. I really need to start signing to him more often when moments get this heated. “What happened, Mandy? What did she say to Ian?”

I started to part my lips a bit, wondering in the back of my mind what to even say to him. _Oh, they were just bickering like normal siblings do_. Bullshit. This wasn’t the kind of normal sibling conversation that was happening; this was something out of a really tear-jerking soap opera.

And I certainly couldn’t say shit like, “it’ll be fine, Mick; I promise,” because for one, how the hell should I know if this will be fine or not? And two, I can’t promise anything, because life never keeps promises for anyone, so nothing’s guaranteed.

We were all silent for a couple more moments, and that was when Fiona turned back around towards us. She had wiped most of the tears off her face with the back of her hands, but she still appeared to be completely sad. Her eyes turned in my direction before they focused on Mickey and the concerned look on his face. She slowly walked in his direction and placed a hand on his shoulder. He kept his eyes on her face to capture the words leaving her lips.

“I’m…uh,” Fiona began, sniffling a little bit from the moments of crying she had earlier, “I’m gonna talk to him later on, okay?” I signed her words to Mickey just to be sure. “I just need you two to look out for him for me in case anything else happens, alright?”

When Fiona finished talking, and I finished signing, Mickey nodded at the both of us. It was a slight nod filled with worry, but it was a nod nonetheless. After a beat, Mickey started to walk up the stairs to find Ian, leaving the two of us downstairs by ourselves.

I gulped a bit, trying to compose myself before I had the chance to open my mouth. “I’m…sorry about that, Fiona.”

The eldest Gallagher shook her head at me. “You have nothing to be sorry about. This wasn’t your fight this time, Mandy, nor was it Mickey’s. There were just some things that were left unsaid between the two of us, and I want to get to the bottom of it as much as I can.”

I nodded understandably, accepting Fiona’s response. Then again, this situation between him and Fiona could be something bigger than I’m able to grasp.

* * *

Usually, the Gallagher boys kept their fucking door open, unless one of them was up to some shit I could care less about – or if they were getting dressed or whatever. Now Ian had himself closed off from everyone and everything else in that little corner of the room of his, and I was almost tempted to back away and give him his space.

But I needed to hear his side of the story, too. I needed to know what happened back there when he lashed out at Fiona.

So I walked closer to the door and slowly opened it, craning my head around and catching a glimpse of Ian’s body underneath his bed sheets. He looked more depressed than he did downstairs.

 _Fuck_. Fuck, I don’t want that for Ian. I want him to be happy and carefree and all that shit. What happened to the same redhead that would start all those goddamn tickle fights in the van and wanted to kiss my entire mouth off my face? What about the same guy that made my day with those ridiculous YouTube videos? Where the hell was he?

My feet carried me closer to Ian’s bed. He was facing the wall, probably so anyone coming in wouldn’t catch a glimpse of the tears that may or may not be falling from his face. He was worse now than that time we were in the van, talking about the army incident.

Shit.

As gently and carefully as I could, I reached my free hand over to him and placed it on his shoulder. At that, Ian flinched away from my hold. Another time, I tried to get his attention, but this time, his arm flung out from underneath the blanket, colliding with my right arm in an attempt to get me to leave. This time, I stepped away from the bed, my body shaking a bit as Ian covered himself up again with the covers. It was clear that Ian was still reeling from the few minutes he and Fiona argued in the kitchen, so he was in no mood to talk to anyone.

With that in mind, I slowly backed away some more, keeping my eyes on Ian’s form before turning around and leaving the room completely. _Damn it_ , I cursed myself out in my head. I deserve a kick in the ass for even taking the money out of the van in the first place.

But I wasn’t naïve enough to overlook a problem that was clearly before my eyes. The money could solve some of our problems, but the effort put forth towards getting it brought up so many others. This has to be the most fucked-up, rotating cycle ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, I am so sorry this hasn't been updated in a while. It's just that a lot was going on within the past three weeks. Voting ended for the Teen Choice Awards earlier this week (hopefully Cameron will win, because he deserves it), summer classes have started two weeks ago, I'm kinda teaching myself how to make gifs for Tumblr, and...you know, all that shit. Also OITNB uploaded its fourth season, and I've been ranting about that for a week because a lot of things about it pissed me off (I'm not gonna say what, though, because some people here might watch it, and they may not wanna get spoiled or anything). Not to mention that it's hot as all types of hell here, and it's making me struggle to update in a timely manner.
> 
> Also, I need some feedback on this story. I know it's been a while since I updated it, but tell me what you guys thought about this chapter. I may have the story end at either 60 or 65 chapters, depending on how things go, but I wanna know what you thought about it and all that good stuff. If you wanna hang out, [my Tumblr ask box](http://aridayagrande.tumblr.com/ask) is open (I'm still trying to figure out what to do with my prompts in my inbox, so I'm still not taking prompts just yet).
> 
> I hope you all have a good day/night, and happy reading. :)


	50. And the Walls Kept Tumbling Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It fucking sucks how Fiona is used to this shit by now. Not just her, but all of the Gallaghers as well. Used to…people just being in their life for one minute and walking out of it the next. People don’t stay in your life for that long, is what I realized growing up. Mama didn’t stay. My other relatives didn’t stay. Outside help back when Mandy and I were bruised and beaten-up kids didn’t stay. They were all in my life at one point, and a lot of them just…left."

_Nobody wants me. Nobody wants me. Nobody wants me_.

My brain replayed my own thoughts as I rolled around in the darkness under my bed sheets. Argue with me all you want about that statement not being true, but no one will truly understand what it’s like to be in my shoes. No one will truly understand what it’s like to have to help Fiona out every day of the week just to not get a thank you back. It’s bad enough that I’m already the middle child who gets attention from barely around, but add that to the lack of acknowledgement from my siblings, and it makes the whole situation ten times worse.

 _Nobody wants me. Nobody wants me. Nobody wants me_.

Being the middle child in the family is fucking bullshit. I got what people said when they expressed their frustrations about not getting as much attention as the youngest ones, or not getting as much power as the older ones. No matter how loud or how often you shouted to the rooftops, people would walk by on the sidewalk, carrying on with the rest of their day. It’s as if I’m not trying to jump off a skyscraper here.

 _Nobody fucking wants me_.

My hands gripped onto the bed sheets as hard as they could, and I could tell that they were getting whiter by the minute, even if it was too dark to see them. Whoever entered the room previously – I assumed it was Mickey due to the silence in the room, followed by the slight masculine grunt from when I swung my arm – tried to get me out of bed, but honestly, I don’t even know if I want to see any of their faces anymore right now. I felt like I had been betrayed. Exposed. Watered down.

All while I was trying to help Mickey and Mandy, too.

 _Fuck_.

Tears spilled out of my eyes as I laid there, helpless and disappointed. I love my family; there’s no doubt in the world about that. I love them all – Fiona, Lip, Debbie, Carl, Liam, Mickey, Mandy, and even the next door neighbors. They’re all my family, and they’ve done what they could to make me feel safe and content. I always thanked them for that, directly or indirectly, and not one fiber out of me will take that back.

It’s just…well, I’m sick and tired of feeling useless. I’m tired of having to put so much effort into something, and then someone else has to step in and object it. I want to actually feel like I’m worth the effort I put in to help someone, and those like Fiona aren’t helping me.

 _I…I think I need to get out_.

I had to get out – not permanently or anything, but just for a while or so. I need to just have some time to myself. Some time away from the family a bit. Maybe my boss will let me crash at the club for a little while until I got myself under control. He had to, right? Right?

Granted, I did have to wait a while before I could actually leave the house – there are too many people under this roof as it is, and I don’t want people asking me a hundred and one questions all at once. So I just waited and waited until the nighttime rolled around.

People still kept coming in the room in the meantime, trying to get me up out of the bed. Mickey and Mandy were the first ones, based on the sound of Mandy’s voice and their prolonged presence as silence overtook the room once again, indicated that she and Mickey were signing to each other. Whatever the hell they were talking about behind my back, I didn’t want to find out. Actually, I didn’t want to do anything right now, except wait until I was finally alone for longer than a few minutes.

Fiona came in a little while later, and her voice still sounded a little broken from our conversation earlier. I understand that she wants the best for me, and I hate hearing how small and emotional her voice is. At the same time, I’m still upset by everything that had gone down today, and I wanted nothing more to stray myself away from that kind of drama.

At least for tonight anyway.

The sky outside got a little darker, and I assumed that everyone was eating right now, judging by the aroma of fried chicken and some vegetable I already knew Fiona would have a hard time trying to feed to Carl or Liam. At one point, Debbie came in and told me to come downstairs since Fiona apparently said so. Something like that shouldn’t strike any chords for me, but just hearing that statement alone makes it feels as though Fiona is my mother instead of my older sister. Combine that with her will to take over literally everything and leave me no room to even assist, and I’m being reduced to nothing more than a middle child being dragged away from the toy store.

It really pays off being the middle child, doesn’t it?

After Debbie came in to talk to me, Mandy came up about five minutes later after Fiona realized I hadn’t budged from my spot. She shook me, rose her voice – anything to get my attention, but I was practically falling asleep in the bed to even notice or care.

Fiona stepped in before Mandy had the chance to leave, and once the female Milkovich was gone, she sat on the edge of the bed and craned her head over my body to catch a glimpse of my face. I could feel it, but I didn’t want to see it, so I had shut my eyes before she even noticed. “Ian?” I could still hear her soft voice, but again, I didn’t answer.

Those next few seconds that followed felt like the longest few seconds of my entire life. Her eyes kept burning into my head that was slightly peeking out from underneath the bed sheets. It wasn’t until a sigh left her lips that she started to rub at my shoulder. For some reason, I didn’t flinch away this time. I don’t know what it was. Maybe that’s just my helplessness speaking for me. Who knows?

She was out the door seconds later, and a breath I didn’t realize I was holding in got released.

A couple of hours later, I heard Lip and Liam enter the room. My youngest brother spoke to me first. “Ian?”

Fuck, I love Liam so much. He’s one of the Gallaghers under this roof who doesn’t have to worry about a damn thing around here.

Well, only for a little while, anyway. Eventually, he’ll be going to elementary school like we used to, and then the homework and responsibilities will start building up around him like cement inside a six-foot hole with a casket deep inside.

Still, he serves as some form of purity and hope I have left for this God-forsaken world.

Lip must have taken into account my current state, so he whispered to Liam and told him to stay as quiet as possible so I could sleep. Of course, it didn’t feel like he was whispering, even if his voice was soft and everything. Maybe it’s because I’m getting used to people talking behind my back now and then. It’s a possibility.

There were more sounds of movement behind me. Carl had gotten out of the shower, allowing Lip to bring Liam in the bathroom so they could have their turn. Carl addressed me once or twice, but after that, he stayed quiet, which was what I needed right now, if we’re being really honest. Lip and Liam returned to the bedroom about forty minutes later, Lip putting the little guy to bed and then getting in bed himself. The lights had gone out about a couple of seconds later, and everyone was finally asleep. I assumed Mickey had gone to sleep in the guest room with Mandy to give me space, hence me being in the bed by myself.

That alone seemed to work a little more in my favor than I thought it would.

I decided to wait a few more minutes, hoping that everyone was completely passed out, and that’s when I slowly and quietly slipped out of bed, tip-toeing through the room to collect whatever articles of clothing I could find. Some of the ones I grabbed were probably Lip’s – there was a Green Lantern shirt that had gotten worn out over time, but it was still good enough to wear in public, I suppose.

I had my backpack filled to the brim with fresh clothes – or at least I thought some of them were fresh – along with my toothbrush, some extra toothpaste and an extra bar of soap from the bathroom, my phone charger, and my wallet. I placed my school stuff on the desk, checking every so often to see whether or not Lip or Carl managed to wake up.

They didn’t. They were sound asleep. Great.

Once I had everything I needed, I grabbed the spare keys from the night stand, along with my phone, and slowly walked out of the room, checking behind me to see if any of my brothers woke up or heard my movements.

They didn’t.

I took one peek inside the guest bedroom just to see if Mickey and Mandy were asleep as well. Mandy’s limbs were spread out on the bed like a starfish laying on its stomach – well, they don’t have stomachs, I don’t think, but you get the picture – and Mickey had been sleeping on the floor by the foot of the bed, about a couple of pillows stuck underneath him. One of them had one of my pillow sheets on it from that time I let him borrow one in case he didn’t like the torn ones Fiona found in the attic.

A lump caught in my throat at the sight of him. He looked peaceful as he usually did when he was asleep. Then the memories from earlier that day came back once again. Mickey and Mandy were normally at their safest when they were with us, and it made me so happy that they had a safe zone away from their own home. Then Terry kept invading the place like an unwanted parasite, and this house just hasn’t been that safe since the Milkoviches were sent to the hospital.

I want them to be here so the rest of their teenage years could be the best ones they’d ever experience. At the same time, it keeps getting easier for Terry to break in and cause harm to his own kids. It’s come to the point where I don’t want Mickey and Mandy here anymore – not because I don’t like or care about them, because I do, but because they deserve safety and happiness. They could get it out of this neighborhood if I could at least try to put in more effort.

However, Fiona doesn’t want me to, it seems. She wants me to go to school and make something of myself. I don’t even know what my purpose is anymore. I lost the army, my hopes and dreams, and my will to succeed. What the hell else could I possibly do?

With one last glance in Mickey and Mandy’s direction, I turned towards the stairs and slowly walked down the steps until I made it to the living room. Once I was there, I grabbed a light jacket that was hanging from the coat rack by the door. Soon after that, I was gone and headed back to the Fairy Tale, whether Fiona liked it or not.

* * *

Debbie, Liam, and I were on the living room couch the next morning. I had a shit ton of assignments to catch up on, and not too much time to finish it. I was the first one in here, actually, until Liam’s energetic body came rushing in, with Debbie trailing behind her. I told them that I didn’t mind them watching weekend morning cartoons, just so long as I can actually catch up with my assignments in somewhat peace.

Though it’s never really peaceful in the Gallagher house, unless when everyone’s sleeping or something like that.

Speaking of sleeping, Mickey came rushing down the stairs suddenly and stopped behind the couch near me as he signed, “have you seen Ian?”

“He’s not upstairs in his room?” I asked him, and he shook his head.

I placed my Chemistry textbook on the coffee table, warning Debbie if she lets Liam color on my shit, I’ll snap a little girl’s pigtails off. She knows I don’t really mean that, but she does get the message and pulls Liam closer to her as I followed Mickey upstairs where Fiona was.

Fiona and Lip were both in front of the boys’ bedroom, sharing a conversation between each other. Things like “I haven’t seen him” and “he’s been gone since I woke up” started to worry me a little bit. He could have gone on one of his early-morning runs like he usually did, but Lip also mentioned that his workout clothes were still in the hamper.

Not to mention that it was close to eleven o’clock. Ian starts his runs as early as six, and he would usually be back by seven-thirty at the latest. Unless he got injured, or he wanted to have a longer workout day, something was completely wrong.

Fiona turned her head towards me and my brother, and Lip did the same seconds after. “Do you think Ian’s okay?” I asked Fiona, and the shaky exhale that had been released from her lips indicated something deeper than I would probably ever imagine.

“I don’t know. He hasn’t been answering my calls or Lip’s, and I’m starting to get really fucking worried.”

“You think he would answer one of ours?” I suggested suddenly.

“We already had Mickey text him multiple times,” Lip stated, “but he’s not even responding to any of _those_ messages. His phone is either off, on airplane mode, or on low battery, and the latter can’t be since he brought his phone charger with him.” He pointed to the night stand by Ian’s bed where the phone cord usually sat while Ian slept.

“And all of his school books are on the desk,” Fiona added, “but his actual backpack is gone.”

That was completely fucking strange. Ian was gone, and he apparently left prepared. His trip was clearly planned. There was no way to tell, though, without him answering anyone’s messages, so he could be anywhere now. Hell, he could be on Wacker Drive downtown near the Sears Tower, and we wouldn’t have any way of knowing.

Fiona was silent for a quick moment, her hands over her mouth for a few seconds before turning to Lip. “Are you gonna be free for the rest of the day?”

“Pretty much. I only have one assignment left to turn in, but it’s mostly done.”

“I need you to go next door and ask Kev if he and Vee could help find Ian,” Fiona commanded. “Maybe we can take their car and hopefully get to him faster.” Lip nodded, and with that, he had gone back in his room to gather some cleaner clothes.

“Wait, get to him _faster_?” I asked Fiona. “The hell does that even mean?”

Fiona bit down on her bottom lip as she looked from my direction to Mickey’s and back. She was holding something back. There was something she was trying to get out but couldn’t. Could Ian possibly be in _that_ much trouble?

“I don’t wanna jump into any conclusions here,” Fiona started, running a hand through her brunette hair as she gazed at the two of us, and I started signing for Mickey. “I…I don’t want to do that, but um…I do have somewhat of an idea of what this is, and…we need to get a hold of Ian before it possibly gets too late.”

“Too late?” I asked, confused. “Fiona, what the hell is going on?”

 _Too late_. _Too late_ could mean a lot of things, but _too late_ , in this case, had no implication behind it to let me know what we were dealing with here. Why would be too late in getting a hold of Ian? What more, other than leaving the house unannounced, could he possibly do?

“He’s been…unresponsive last night after we confronted him, for one,” Fiona answered, “and his actions lately aren’t like him. Like I said, it’s too early to know for sure, but…” She hugged her arms as she looked from me to Mickey and back before finishing her statement. “It could be…bipolar disorder.”

* * *

Bi what? The fuck was she talking about? What the hell was a bipolar disorder, and what made Fiona believe he had it in the first place?

I watched the exchange between my sister and Fiona, still confused as to what this whole bipolar thing even was. Mandy had asked her at one point about it, and Fiona responded with, “it’s mood swings, periods of highs and lows,” and shit like that, but it still didn’t make sense to me. We all have fucking mood swings every now and then, don’t we?

Fiona proceeded to talk, and Mandy signed every word. Fiona referenced their mother Monica, and that’s when I remembered the earlier conversation I had with Debbie. _Monica hit Ian once. She’s never the violent type, but she has bipolar disorder and was at one of her lows_. It made a little bit of sense, but how is Ian running away a clue to him having bipolar disorder? He probably needed more space than what he already had.

At one point, everything seemed to freeze in time the moment I saw Mandy sign, “we might have to take Ian to the clinic, if it gets anymore serious.”

The clinic? The fucking clinic?

This didn’t make any fucking sense whatsoever. Why does Ian need to go to a fucking clinic?

At my hand movements, Fiona directed her eyes to me. I signed to the both of them. “The fuck does a clinic have to do with all of this? Ian doesn’t need medicine or some shit; he’s fine.”

Mandy turned back around and told Fiona what I said, and that’s when she answered, “It’s…it’s more complicated than that. People with bipolar disorder don’t have a lot of control over their emotions and their actions, especially when their highs and lows are really major at the time.”

So Ian can’t control sleeping in bed all day and then leaving the house hours later? What kind of shit was that?

“Can’t we just fucking talk to him?” I asked. “Why the fuck do we need a clinic when we can just cheer him up?”

“It’s not like that, Mickey,” Fiona spoke and Mandy signed. “Ian may have to get hospitalized if it gets any worse than what it is now.” I frowned at her for a moment, and then the both of them added, “but again, it’s too early to tell.”

No. Fuck that. Fuck that _too early to tell_ shit. Just because Ian’s a little upset about what we did doesn’t mean he’s some maniac.

The two of them saw me shaking my head as I turned away from them and headed over to the stairs, slowly taking a couple of steps down as I pulled out my phone and sent Ian another message. Ian has to fucking pick up. He needs to talk to me. If not me, then Fiona or Mandy or some shit. We can talk this through if he just answers his goddamn cell phone. He doesn’t need doctors shoving pills down his throat and shit.

A hand reached my shoulder before I made it all the way down, and when I turned around, I realized Fiona had caught up with me. She had a sympathetic look on her face that I was starting to fucking hate looking at right now. It’s bad enough that Ian already feels betrayed by the both of us, but now Fiona wants Ian to go to some fucking psych ward or something like he’s some kind of nut case. Ian’s not a nut case, and he never will be. He’s perfectly fine just the way he is. I should know; I felt closer to him than I did with anyone in my life, and that’s saying something coming from a guy who can’t even use his words.

Fiona was trying to speak to me again, but I turned away from her once again, checking my phone screen to see whether or not Ian responded to any of my text messages.

 _Fuck. Still nothing_.

Mandy eventually made it to the stairs and turned me around again so I was facing the two of them. Then she signed, “Just hear Fiona out on this, Mick –“

“Easy for you to say; you can actually fucking hear.”

I hated it when people used that term, even if it was a figure of speech. It just further intensified the idea that I will never be able to use my ears ever again. Mandy knew well, in this case, don’t get me wrong. If this scenario were different, though, and if the two of us hadn’t known each other and led different lives, I probably would have kicked her in the shin for it.

Fiona put both of her hands on my arms, pulling me down as she lowered herself down on one of the stair steps. Mandy joined us, and soon enough, we were all sitting and paying attention to Fiona’s words.

“This is a lot of information to process at so much time, Mickey,” Fiona explained, and Mandy signed. “I get it. I don’t want this to be true anymore than you do. Trust me. I’ve seen this happen over and over again with my mom, and with her, it usually doesn’t end well. That’s why neither you nor Mandy have seen her yet. She would always leave for long periods of time and not return until she wants to. That happens.”

It fucking sucks how Fiona is used to this shit by now. Not just her, but all of the Gallaghers as well. Used to…people just being in their life for one minute and walking out of it the next. People don’t stay in your life for that long, is what I realized growing up. Mama didn’t stay. My other relatives didn’t stay. Outside help back when Mandy and I were bruised and beaten-up kids didn’t stay. They were all in my life at one point, and a lot of them just…left.

The same happened to the Gallaghers. Monica left them during the moments they needed their mother to be by their side – and all because of this fucking bipolar disorder that I still don’t understand. How is this shit even a thing, and why did it cause so many problems?

“The worst part is how Monica has refused to take medication before,” Fiona and Mandy continued, “and she just continues to do it, no matter what any of us tried. She’s been in denial about this for years, and as much as we love her, we couldn’t help her in time.”

They both stopped when Fiona reached her right hand over to me, placing her hand on top of my free one. She knew I was distancing myself from the conversation, but all of this is…so fucking overwhelming. I only found out about what bipolar was a few minutes ago, and now she’s saying that, if not taken care of, Ian could potentially get worse. I don’t want Ian to get worse. I want him to have the fucking best life can offer. I mean, he deserves it, right? After losing the army a couple of years ago, he needs something good coming to him, right?

But…fuck, at the same time, he’ll be in the goddamn hospital. The fucking hospital. What are those people even gonna do to him? How long would he be away? Being away from Ian for a few hours was already bad enough, whether the reasons behind it were good or bad, but don’t people who go to psych wards stay there for days or weeks or some shit like that?

I can’t handle that. I can’t handle being away from Ian for that long, especially when I don’t fucking know what they’re gonna do with him.

“You and Ian love each other very much,” Fiona and Mandy continued, and my heart starting racing, because fuck the both of them for making me feel this way. “You two have gotten along so well ever since you two met, and in relationships, both sides want the best for the other, right?” I nodded slowly, swallowing a bit at Fiona’s words. How she seemed to share the same thoughts as me, I have no fucking clue.

“If this is really the bipolar disorder we’re talking about here,” Fiona continued, and Mandy signed, “then we have a shot of helping Ian earlier than we did with Monica. We have a chance to nip this in the bud, but we can’t just wait for the problem to grow. I really need you on board, Mickey. We both love Ian, and we both want the best for him. I know this is really shocking for you, but I need your help more than ever if we’re gonna find and help him. Can you do that for me?”

As resistant as I was about the idea of sending Ian away to a hospital and all that shit, I knew this was really fucking important. I don’t know how severe the highs and lows are that Fiona talked about earlier, but I don’t wanna even think about seeing Ian like that.

I just want Ian to come home, but more importantly, I just want him to be safe.

So with that, I looked into Fiona’s eyes and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm most likely gonna end this story at 60 chapters, which is why I updated the chapter count. So basically ten more chapters until this story is over. I'm sad about it honestly, but I also have more ideas for stories to write, and I'm excited to get started on some of those, too. And I'm sorry this took so long to update. I hope you guys liked this chapter. Let me know in the comments what you think. <3


	51. What We Don't Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I’m doing something – collecting dust – yet nothing at all, which I didn’t understand but, at the same time, it did make a little sense.
> 
> Still, I don’t want my purpose for living to be collecting dust. Surely everyone else is collecting dust, too, except when they do it, they’re keeping themselves busy with something else. Fiona collects dust while she runs back and forth from home to Patsy’s and back, providing food for the whole family. Lip collects dust while he flips open his textbooks to study for his exams. Debbie collects dust while she assists Fiona with Liam and even takes part in her babysitting gigs. Carl collects dust as he roams the halls of his school with pride in every step, even when he’s causing trouble for the other students. Hell, even Liam collects dust as he develops his own learning skills. What am I doing while I’m collecting my own dust? Nothing."

A surprising amount of people around my age knew what they were doing or knew what they wanted to do in the future. Some of the classmates I have possess really big dreams, like going to nursing school after college or owning their own business. Some of them may not know too many specifics in terms of a career, but they know where they want to end up, at least. In Chicago, in Illinois, in the United States, in a foreign country – they all just knew. They knew something they wanted to achieve.

Me? I’m lost. I have no idea where I’m fucking going anymore. Even as I sit here in the back of one of the CTA buses, I still have no idea where I’m fucking going, and I’m supposed to be a senior in high school next year.

Senior. You wanna know who’s also going to be a senior? The folks who already have kids and achieved at least one or two of their life goals. The folks who are this close to becoming and staying gray-haired, not giving a damn whether or not other people would notice a difference in the way they look. The folks who weren’t even worried about dying or being dead, because they’ve gotten everything they wanted and worked for.

I’ll probably be about seventy-two years old and still feeling unaccomplished with myself. Thinking about the army makes me depressed, because I’ll never have the chance to formally serve my country ever again. I don’t have a purpose without my dreams of the army, which have all gotten shattered within a few second’s by the words of an army martial.

 _Shit_.

I’ve looked high and low for my purpose of living since my hopes and dreams have been destroyed. Was it buried deep in the ground where Frank once dug up that disgusting pipe that one summer? Was it stuck on the rooftop of the Gallagher house somewhere? Was it wandering around the busy streets of Chicago? Fuck if I know. Maybe I’m not meant to have a purpose for existing after all, or maybe my purpose is to be a giant clump of matter collecting dust as it walked past. I’m doing something anyway, aren’t I?

I’m doing something – collecting dust – yet nothing at all, which I didn’t understand but, at the same time, it did make a little sense.

Still, I don’t want my purpose for living to be collecting dust. Surely everyone else is collecting dust, too, except when they do it, they’re keeping themselves busy with something else. Fiona collects dust while she runs back and forth from home to Patsy’s and back, providing food for the whole family. Lip collects dust while he flips open his textbooks to study for his exams. Debbie collects dust while she assists Fiona with Liam and even takes part in her babysitting gigs. Carl collects dust as he roams the halls of his school with pride in every step, even when he’s causing trouble for the other students. Hell, even Liam collects dust as he develops his own learning skills. What am I doing while I’m collecting my own dust? Nothing.

I didn’t want to do nothing. Nothing wasn’t good enough, if at all, around here. Nothing could could get you in the worst circumstances possible, and I sure as hell didn’t want that, not after the downward spiral my life is currently falling down as a result of my lost opportunities for the army. That’s why I wanted to make this trip back to the club. These guys liked me, and I liked them. They actually want me to do something and didn’t give a shit about what I should or shouldn’t be doing. I mean, yeah, I should be working, but I told them the situation I was in, and they understood it completely without second-guessing me or anything like that. That was what I needed right now, for someone to give me the go-ahead so I can not only do something while I collect my dust, but I can also do what I can to protect Mickey and Mandy from their piece of shit dad.

Speaking of Mickey and Mandy, they kept texting my phone non-stop today. I wanted to let them know I was okay and that they didn’t have to worry about anything, but knowing them being in the Gallagher house, either Fiona or Lip could be breathing down their necks, waiting for me to confess to something, and I sure as hell didn’t need that on my conscience.

So I didn’t respond. I turned my phone off after Mandy sent in about three more messages in a row, stuffing it in my jacket pocket before standing up to head towards the back door of the CTA bus. I had left the club for a minute to grab myself something to eat. I had a figure to maintain, sure, but I hadn’t eaten anything since…well, a while. When has a little Chinese food hurt anybody?

Okay, it probably hurt somebody once or twice, but how the hell should I know?

I had been working all night last night, and I’m fucking exhausted, but I had no plans on going back to the house just yet. I’m just not ready right now, and I don’t believe the other Gallaghers and Mickey and Mandy are ready for me to come over there, either, as much as they say they are. I’ll sit this one out for a little while longer and see how it goes.

Besides, it’s not like they miss me that much anyway.

* * *

“Ian, where are you?” Fiona asked as she held the cell phone up to her ear. “I had been calling you almost all morning, and you still haven’t picked up. Call me back.” Once she was done leaving her voicemail, she hung up and nearly slammed the phone on the counter before running both of her hands over her face. “Fuck.”

Everyone was completely stressed out today, although it was mainly me, Mickey, and Fiona carrying most of the weight. Debbie immediately got worried the moment she found out that Ian was missing and paced around the living room floor, thinking of all the places he might have gone. Lip was in and out of the house, joining the Ball-Fisher family next door in searching for Ian around the neighborhood, coming up short, as expected. Even Carl wanted Ian to come back home, and when Carl got sad, you just knew things weren’t normal around here.

And Mickey? Shit. Mickey’s a nervous train wreck. He hasn’t placed his phone down for even a minute. He’ll place it down for a second only to impatiently tap the other icons on his phone screen before immediately turning back to the messages app to see if Ian responded. Every time, he would get frustrated, because Ian wasn’t picking up.

Ian is Mickey’s boyfriend, and Mickey is Ian’s boyfriend. You would think that their communication skills were on point, but in reality, they were shit at talking to each other. I didn’t know that much from what I’ve seen between them so far, but judging by the current predicament, it looked as though they both needed some couples counseling or some shit.

“He’s not picking up,” Fiona finally spoke, letting out an exasperated sigh as she leaned against her elbows.

“And Kev, Vee, and I couldn’t find him in any close-by neighborhoods,” Lip stated, “so he’s most likely downtown.”

“Where downtown?” Debbie asked curiously, turning her head towards Lip.

“The Loop, maybe?” Lip suggested with a shrug. “Wacker Drive? Roosevelt? He could be fucking anywhere by now.”

“His job?” I suggested, stating the obvious. “This whole thing started because Fiona told him she didn’t want him working at the club anymore –“

“I never told him he should quit,” Fiona argued back defensively.

Carl frowned as he spoke up. “Wait. Ian works at a club now?”

“Yeah,” Debbie agreed. “When did that happen?”

I scoffed at Carl and Debbie’s newfound curiosity. Of course, Lip and Fiona didn’t think to let them in on what was going on. Fucking Gallaghers. “So much for keeping everyone in line.”

Fiona’s head whipped around towards me, and then she crossed her arms in front of her chest. I mean, yeah, I get that Ian’s not in a good place right now, and some of the things – like him saying that the Gallaghers didn’t need him anymore – weren’t true, but he kind of did have a point about Fiona to some degree. That, and Ian’s my only best friend. All I want for him is to be safe, but now he’s wandering around Chicago with just a backpack and barely any money on him – I don’t know how, but he left the bag of money here in the house, so he shouldn’t have more than about a few bucks or so, I think.

“Mandy, I’m trying my hardest here,” Fiona explained in an offended tone. “I’ve been trying to reach him all morning –“

“So have we,” I interrupted, gesturing between me and Mickey. “What are we supposed to do next?” Fiona didn’t respond, rather she just ran a stressed hand through her brunette hair. Neither one of us even knows whether Ian having bipolar disorder is true or not, and yet, we’re all panicking left and right trying to figure out the next tactic. God, we’re a mess.

“Can we just calm the fuck down for a minute?” We all heard Lip say, looking at me, Carl, and then Fiona. “Alright, Ian _might_ have bipolar disorder; that doesn’t mean he really does –“

“Whether he does or not,” Fiona explained, “I still want to make sure he’s okay.”

“And depending on how much time passes or what his mood is like or whatever the fuck, he’ll probably tell us later on,” Lip stated.

“And what if he doesn’t?” Debbie asked, concerned.

“Then there’s probably some logical explanation behind it. Maybe his phone got stolen, or maybe it just broke.”

“Can’t be the battery,” I told him, “because we all know he took his charger.”

“Or what if he gets kidnapped by a bunch of muggers or drug dealers?” Debbie asked, and Fiona had to place a hand on top of her shoulder for a moment and close her eyes to try and rid the visual she was getting out of her head.

“Ian’s smarter than that,” Lip replied, looking over at Debbie. “He wouldn’t get involved with shit like that, unless he really wanted to get a dose of drugs, which is definitely not true.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know Ian, okay?”

 _What reasoning_ , I thought to myself as I turned to him and folded my arms. “If you know Ian so much, then you’d know where we’re headed and what to do when we find him.”

“You say he could most likely be at the club, right?” Lip asked, and I nodded. “So we’ll just call them and ask them if Ian showed up to his shift. Maybe they can even get him to the phone for us.” At that suggestion, Fiona picked her own phone back up, searching Google for the club he worked at, along with the phone number to call.

I turned my head only for a second and noticed that Mickey still had his eyes trained on his cell phone in front of him. I don’t even think he looked up at us once to comprehend what the hell we were talking about. His mind is just so fixated on getting a response from Ian and some kind of confirmation that he hasn’t gotten into any trouble. He can’t do anymore than what we’re all doing, but Ian’s his boyfriend, and Mickey will try anything if it meant that Ian would soon come home so we can end the search party.

The phone in Fiona’s hand dialed for a few moments, from what I heard in the now quiet kitchen, save for Fiona’s nails tapping against the counter top. She got really antsy when she’s nervous. She can’t sit still for a damn minute knowing one of her siblings had gotten in some kind of predicament. She and I are nowhere near the same, excluding my relationship with Mickey. If Iggy or Colin got thrown into prison right now, none of us would give too much of a shit, because they would most likely get bailed out or survive the entire stay. They’ve done it multiple times before, right?

After a few more seconds, someone answered the other line, and I released a breath I didn’t realize I held in. “Hello, is this The Fairy Tail?” Fiona asked into the receiver. The man on the other end gave her his confirmation before Fiona continued. “Hi. I was wondering if you had someone working over there named Ian Gallagher?” A moment passed, the man on the other line speaking incoherently to Debbie’s, Lip’s, Carl’s, and my ears. Fiona then added, “I’m his sister. He was here in the house with us yesterday, but now, he’s not here anymore, and he’s not answering his phone. I was wondering if you could bring him to the phone so we could talk.”

Hopefully this would show a good sign.

We were all waiting for what the man on the other line would say, watching Fiona’s facial expressions as we did so. Her shoulders slumped a little bit, which probably meant he had bad news for her. “Are you sure?” After the man’s response, Fiona’s entire body started to deflate some more before adding, “Well, can you let me know the next time you see him?” The man said yes, and Fiona nodded a couple of times. “Thank you.”

Fiona disconnected the call and placed her phone back down. Lip’s eyebrows rose on his forehead. “What did he say?”

I watched as Fiona gulped, her eyes trained down to the counter top. She bit her lip once, trying not to get emotional or anything like that, but it was hard for her to hold herself up, and the one thing I never expected nor wanted came out of her mouth. “Ian’s gone.”

* * *

Fiona tried to call me today, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to face her right now. I had no idea what the hell she even wanted with me right now, but if it’s to bring me back home just to boss me around like she did, then I didn’t want any part of it. So I had asked my boss to not tell Fiona where I was. He was concerned about me when I suggested it, but he had to know where all of this was coming from, right?

I decided to take a break from my shift to just hang out backstage. Dancing took a lot of energy out of you, from what I’ve realized. However, I seemed to have gotten more exercise from this than just running and push-ups alone. Good thing dancing’s fun, though I wouldn’t wanna do it professionally or anything like that.

A lot of the guys who worked there were a lot older than me. I think one of the guys, Jamie, was around the age of twenty-five or twenty-six. That was understandable, though. The only reason I’m even here is to help Mickey and Mandy with the money they need to get out of here. These other guys probably had other reasons for being here – putting more food in their families’ stomachs, just coming out of the closet and finding new safe spaces for them, needing extra money to pay rent – everyone had their reasons for doing certain things, and no one really gave a fuck. They just went along with their own business, which was what I appreciated about the Fairy Tail.

I love my family with all my heart and everything, and I want them to know that I’m doing okay and all, but…I kinda want to handle things on my own, too. It’s like I reiterated before, but I don’t really have a purpose if I’m not taking control of my own life. It’s my decision to work here and help send money in Mickey and Mandy’s way, and no one else can take that right away from me.

And I won’t let them. That’s why I’m still here right now.

The room was a little quiet, minus the disco music that’s playing in the main room of the building. Everyone out there must be having a good time, it seems. I heard a bunch of howls out of nowhere at one point – it must have been a group of maybe five or six guests having some birthday celebration or a bachelor party. At least someone around here’s having a fun time.

I picked up my phone from where it was charging in one of the outlets and checked the time on the screen. About 12:37 p.m. Not too bad.

Only thing, though: I didn’t put my phone back down where it originally was, because my eyes had been stuck on the background screen the entire time. It was a photo Mickey and I took a while back when we were goofing off by ourselves. It was taken a while after Mickey and I confirmed our relationship. He was in a giggly mess when I tickled him into a selfie, and it ended up being the best photo of us I’ve ever taken. So I made it my screensaver. Not even Mickey could get too upset about it, though he seemed to be more focused on my face than his.

I want to go back to the point of our relationship when we were enjoying the simplistic moments between us. With Mickey in or out of the closet, I’m not sure – maybe up to the part before Terry found out that his son was getting fucked in the Gallagher kitchen late at night. I still cringe every time I think about that day, even if Mickey and I didn’t know we were being filmed. I feel as though I should take responsibility for that evening, because the truth is, Terry wouldn’t have found out if it wasn’t for me and my actions.

 _Fuck_.

I just don’t want Mickey to get hurt anymore. I love him more than he knows – I probably love him more than I know – and he doesn’t have as many good moments in his life as bad ones. And every good day he has is always ruined, most likely by Terry, and it’s not fucking fair. It’s not fucking fair, because Mickey deserves the best he can get, and I don’t want us loving each other at the cost of him getting punched or kicked by his father being the best he can get.

I gulped as I turned my phone back off and sat it back on the ground, allowing it to charge some more. I couldn’t cry right now, but thinking about Mickey makes it hard. Mickey’s the love of my life, as cliché as it sounded. I just want him to be safe. Is that too much to ask?

With that, I stood back up and prepared to go back out there and do my job. I had a few bucks on me from the last couple of shifts, but added to the money I brought home, it’s not enough. I need to put every ounce of effort into this job as I can.

* * *

It’s been fucking hours, and Ian still hasn’t gotten a hold of any of us. I’m getting fucking worried about him, because shit, what the hell’s gonna happen if Ian got himself into a situation he wouldn’t be able to get himself out of? Chicago’s already one hell pit of a city, and anyone like Ian could risk a lot of shit around here. Who the fuck knows what he’s up to at that strip club of his? He could be getting drugged down there, for all he knew, or maybe even worse.

Fuck worse. I can’t handle worse. I’m already the product of a suicidal mother and a homophobic father, and my sister already has to suffer with me. But now, Ian’s out here getting lost in the fucking city and shit, not answering his goddamn phone to reply to his text messages. I know he took his fucking battery with him, too, so that’s not even close to a fucking excuse as to why he’s not picking up.

My head banged against the window softly as I kept my eyes on the sidewalk in front of the Gallagher house. I shouldn’t be mad at Ian. I shouldn’t. After all, he wanted to do this himself, didn’t he? Or was this the bipolar thing talking? I have no idea what the hell this bipolar disorder thing even is; I just heard of it hours before. The Gallaghers have said they experienced it with their mother multiple times before, so they should have a clear idea on what it is. Me? I didn’t even know that shit could exist. I can’t just judge Ian off of something I barely knew shit about anyway, so there’s no fucking point.

I glanced at the clock on my phone screen. It was a little past one o’clock. Ian had been gone all morning. It wasn’t really a secret that he was working at the Fairy Tail anymore, seeing as how he told me and then…well, I kinda spilled the beans on him. I was just concerned about this whole plan, and Ian didn’t even talk about it with me at first; he kinda just jumped into it and then made a whole surprise out of it. The money is very generous of him – God knows Mandy and I need some more cash in our lives anyway – but I just want him. I don’t want anything else. Yeah, I wanna get away from Dad, too, but right now, things between me and Ian are great.

Or I think they are. I don’t even know anymore. He’s not even picking up his fucking phone and answering my messages, and it’s making me believe that he’s mad at me for telling on him or some shit. Like, I didn’t want to upset him on purpose, but is it really okay for a seventeen-year-old to sign himself up to be a dancer at a strip club? He’s not even the right age yet, for fuck’s sake.

Something flickered on my phone screen in the corner of my eye, and I thought it was Ian, so I quickly glanced down to see what it was.

Fuck. Never mind. It was some dumb ass game notification.

Shit.

I felt a hand touch my shoulder suddenly, and I flinched a bit. When I turned my head around, Fiona was standing behind me. She had a sympathetic look on her face, and I wasn’t sure how long she was standing there watching me, but it must have been long enough to know what I was even doing.

I feel pretty bad for her, as much as I am worried about Ian as well. He’s her fucking brother, and he means as much to Fiona as he does to me. That’s how it’s supposed to work, isn’t it? Not only does she have Ian to worry about now, but she’s been having to deal with her mother’s shit for years. She’s right; I’ve never met the woman before, and I probably never will considering her track record in regards to actually staying in the house and taking care of her children. I can imagine, though, that things didn’t go pretty well with her here. Debbie’s even described how she hit Ian once before, and I don’t even want to think about one of his parents fucking putting their hands on him like that – not after what I’ve seen with Frank.

Fiona knelt down so we were at eye level. She still had a shitty memory in terms of using sign language, but regardless, she tried her best to sign what she could, and I would usually get what she was talking about most of the time. Plus, I can somewhat read lips, so it’s not like Fiona’s doing all of the work.

“He’s gonna come back home soon,” she told me. “We’re not sure when, though, because we still don’t know where he is. Kevin and Lip are going out to scout out possible locations, so we’re still looking for him.” I nodded. That gave me a little piece of hope, if anything. She smoothed my shoulder a little bit before she tried to sign again. “It’s going to be okay, Mick. I know how hard this has been for you lately, but trust me: we’ll find some way to get Ian back.”

I really hope what Fiona was telling me was true. It’s been relatively twelve hours since Ian left the house, so there’s no telling what he could be up to or what he could get himself into. At the same time, Ian’s a smart guy. He wouldn’t just do dumb shit just to get himself in trouble on purpose. I should know what that’s like; after all, I have older brothers who could give a shit less about what happens to them next.

 _Fuck_ , I thought to myself as I wiped a tear out of the corner of my eye – or whatever I think is a tear anyway. It’s fucking crazy since he hasn’t been gone for that long, but I’m worried about a lot of things that could potentially happen to Ian. If he’s bipolar like Fiona predicts and has one of those highs or lows or whatever, how would he even act? What did a bipolar high even look like?

My eyes diverted down to the phone in my lap and I pulled open the Notes app so I could type a message to Fiona. My hands shook a little as I tried to get all of my words out, because the more I thought about Ian’s condition, the more worried I started to get. Once I was done typing everything, I handed Fiona my phone, and she proceeded to read what was on the screen. “How bad is it? Like, how bad could it actually get?” I had typed.

She looked up at me and mouthed, “Bipolar?” I nodded. Fiona’s eyes glanced back down at the phone screen, and she sighed. Something tells me that whatever she has to say is pretty intense. “It, uh…it can get really bad at times. When Monica was here, and when she had one of her really bad lows, it…pretty much affected us all.” I nodded my head slowly, taking in every word she tried to sign. “She would have periods of time where she would stay in bed for days on end. She would hide underneath the stairs sometimes when she’s upset.” Fiona shrugged and shook her head a little. “Little stuff like that, and it was hard to really care for her when she wouldn’t go and get the medication to treat her symptoms."

She rejected her medication? But why? Why would someone just reject the one thing that’s supposed to help them?

“She’s been in denial many, many times about it,” Fiona continued, answering the question that’s been swimming in my head. She shrugged again. “It’s common for people with bipolar disorder to be in denial, but it makes it harder for us to care for them since they won’t get what they need, you know?” I nodded. Ian probably doesn’t even know if he has bipolar disorder or not, or he probably doesn’t know that we’re considering that him having it might be the case.

What the hell’s gonna happen if we just tell him about it then? Is he gonna run further away than he already is?

“I’m not saying that we know for sure that Ian has bipolar disorder,” Fiona added, followed by a small sigh. “However, it is something we still need to consider.”

I gulped and lowered my head a bit, just thinking about what Ian would be like on a bipolar low like his mother had been. I can’t stomach it, but I can see it. I don’t want to, though. I don’t want to see Ian looking all depressed and shit. He’s not the kind of guy that gets depressed all the time. He’ll run his fucking mouth on some occasions, and he’ll have times when he thinks he’s slick and shit, but that’s Ian for you. That’s the guy whom I managed to call my boyfriend pretty much every day within the past couple of months. That’s the guy who took me into his home and offered me and my sister a place to sleep whenever Dad went off on one of his rampages.

That’s…that’s Ian. Ian Gallagher. He’s not a fucking disorder; he’s Ian Gallagher.

 _Fuck_.

Fiona watched as I ran a hand over my mouth, and at that, she leaned over and wrapped her arms around my upper body. It was a lot to take in right now, and I’m not even sure if I’ll be ready to see Ian get admitted into a hospital or whatever the fuck when the Gallaghers find him. I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it, being without Ian for however long they’re putting him in there for.

We sat like this for a couple more minutes before Fiona released me, but not before kissing the top of my head like I was her son or little brother or some shit. “We’re gonna do everything we can,” she signed, “and I want you to do the same. We’ll see how things are on Ian’s end first, and then we can get him to the clinic and see what they’ll say. Sound good?”

I slowly nodded and then sighed as Fiona got up and left the room. I turned my head back around for a second or two just to peep out the window. There were no signs of a tall ass redhead in sight. I looked down at my phone and checked the messages app, but again, Ian didn’t respond.

I really hope they find him in time. It’s been half a fucking day already. I just want him back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still working on my Big Bang fics, so actually publishing chapters of stories/writing prompts still might be slow over here. This story only needs nine more chapters, and it'll be finished (even I can't wait, lmfao). I've been away from this story for so long, and I feel insecure about it sometimes because usually when I leave a story for so long, I end up forgetting details I want to include, and as a writer, it's a pain in my own ass smh.
> 
> Leave comments letting me know what you think, because comments (and kudos) are appreciated. I hope everyone enjoys their day/night, and happy reading. <3


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